


Demons Among Us

by katyhorrorpictureshow



Category: Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Turned Into Vampire, Demonic Possession, F/F, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, Survival Horror, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-12 13:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyhorrorpictureshow/pseuds/katyhorrorpictureshow
Summary: In the sleepy town of Carey, Ohio, Lord Adaru and his five heralds seek to wreak havoc and raise the dead... literally. It's up to the rebels from the Zombie Awareness Program to bring peace and order back to their town.Remake of my orphaned fic "The Tales of Terror: Fear Revealed."





	1. A New Age of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> It's back! After a year or so of doing heavy revisions to the plot and the characters, "The Tales of Terror: Fear Revealed" is back, and better than ever. If you're at all familiar with the original story (which you can still find here, even though I've orphaned it), you'll notice some of the changes right away in the first few chapters. I had a lot of fun revisiting this story (it's very special to me), and I hope you'll enjoy this updated version!

Nineteen years. Nineteen cycles. It is the twentieth cycle when he is to be…  _revealed._

To most, he is only legend. Before him, no things were created unless eternal, and he is eternal. He is the shiver that shoots down your spine, the goosebumps prickling on your skin. He is the dreadful ache, the steady heartbeat, the tremble in your hands. When you are pushed over the precipice of what is morally right and wrong, he is there. He knows no bounds.

He is Fear.

For nineteen cycles he waited in agony, shut in the lantern that spit out nothing but fire and ash, craving the screams of humankind and relishing the echoes of their pitiful cries. His bones quivered and his blood rushed through his veins, for his time for release loomed over the horizon. He kicked and thrashed and groaned, maddened by his hunger. Souls were what he needed to survive. Without life, he only reigned by death.

He wasn't always this way. Eons ago, he went by the name of Adaru, a devout follower of Hades, assistant of spreading pain and terror to foolish mortals who dared flirt with the Underworld. The birth of nightmares served as Adaru's expertise, for although he was a mortal man, he had been gifted with the powers of necromancy. He became feared, feared by both God and man, for his abilities to terrorize and control. The suffering of the human soul greatly pleasured him, giving him enough power to thrive in his own right.

Being the right-hand man to the most chaotic of Gods wasn't enough, however. He flirted with Demeter, seduced Ares, and spent countless nights with the likes of Aphrodite and Dionysus, all under the guise of a man who knew nothing of their power. He craved for all of what they bore. He used his visits to his advantage, questioning them about their deepest fears and desires. This, apparently, was not Hades'  _modus operandi_ , and any follower of Hades who dared to break the rules suffered harsh punishment. For his infiltration, Adaru was stripped of his soul and brought to the lantern, doomed to stay for twenty cycles at a time.

As the cycles passed on, the Roman numerals of the passing years etched themselves into Adaru's skin, a painful reminder of the time he wasted sulking in his prison. He pondered how to sway over the High Council, should he ever be released. Perhaps the undead needed a new leader, just like the dark king he used to piously worship. He could lead the dead to justice, to victory. War and nightmares played along with each other nicely. His ultimate task was simple - gather enough souls so that he may thrive and exist permanently in his physical form. The world had become too reckless, too desensitized to terror. The mortals shunned him as they did eons ago, for fear is too common to embrace as a monster. Now, fear is what is needed for survival.

Adaru eavesdropped on the senior-most members of the High Council, Bone and Amaranth, consulting with one another. He caught distant murmurings of 'heralds', 'advisory', and the five components of fear: chaos, death, sacrifice, legend, and vengeance. He nearly seethed underneath his breath. They were bringing up the idea of heralds again? He didn't need any heralds. He was able to rule on his own, and Gods forbid if anyone tried to stop him.

"Perhaps Fortuna should take on Adaru's work this cycle.”

The words of the Grim Nephilim ferryman nearly made Adaru rage. Fortuna? His arch nemesis? Taking on _his_ work? She knew nothing of fear, only fate, and fear is always more powerful than fate.

"You mean the entity of unluckiness?" Amaranth tapped a bruised, broken talon atop the smooth-surfaced table. "She still has a lot to learn about balancing good luck with bad. You know how rueful she can get."

“But she may be our only hope,” Bone replied matter-of-factly. “You must not underestimate Fortuna’s powers, Amaranth. They soon could save the undead from extinction.”

Amaranth clicked her tongue, still dismayed. "Can she conjure spirits?"

Bone nodded.

"Deliver impassioned speeches?"

Bone nodded again.

"Travel freely between our world and theirs?"

"You mustn't ask any more questions, Amaranth. We are dealing with the daughter of Zeus and the Moirai. I believe she is more than capable of successfully completing any task we give her.”

After much deliberation, the High Council hosted a demonstration for the goddess to prove her worth. It was a grand event, bringing in hundreds of undead from several different parts of the world. To the undead, Lady Fortuna Luck was somewhat of a celebrity. Her powers of transfiguration and mind control inspired many to go out and find their own prey to wreak havoc upon, and ultimately, she inspired Adaru to devise his plan of reigning over humankind.

Everyone hushed as the sound of heels clicking against stony floors echoed across the meeting chamber. The goddess's beauty was a sight to behold, especially in person, with her tresses of auburn hair and her emerald gown bedazzled with silver and gold jewels. She stopped right in front of the table where Bone and Amaranth sat, their faces illuminated by the fire burning inside of the lantern in front of them.

"I'd like to introduce myself." Fortuna's eyes were not on the meeting's attendees, but knowingly on the lantern, speaking directly to Adaru. "I bring you choice and fate. I've been with you since time began, when temptation tested faith. I was there when man first tasted fruit served up on a golden plate. He had his choice and made it." She leaned in closer. "All I did was wait."

Then, with a wave of her hand, a glowing green bauble formed in her hands. She raised her hand upward and let the bauble levitate to the ceiling, as it then burst and formed a ghostly screen behind her. Fortuna began to tell her stories of successes, from when she influenced Edgar Allan Poe to travel to Baltimore to when she offered the infamous role of H.R. Bloodengutz to Larry Kurtzberg, a struggling actor turned taxidermist. The council watched with rapt attention as Fortuna wove each tale. Her ease of shapeshifting marveled nearly everyone in the chamber, all except for Adaru, that was. He both admired and envied her, for her powers alone were stronger than his. For many cycles, he craved the same amount of power that Fortuna had, wanting to influence mortals' decisions through one sweep of their minds. Fate is what he needed to succeed. Specifically, it was what he needed to  _reign_.

“Some find my ways so puzzling, the purpose of my games,” Fortuna concluded, bringing the bauble back into her hands. “But it is so simple, really. I am a Lady through and through, and Luck is my last name.”

The Iniquitus hired Fortuna right on the spot.

It took Fortuna nineteen years of relentless searching to find candidates perfect enough for the advisory of heralds, or the Icons. She reached out to those near death, to lure them into an afterlife with benefits greater than life's. It amused the goddess how quick some were to latch onto her promises of fame and power, especially the circus clown who perfectly embodied Chaos. Little did they know of the price they'd have to pay once Adaru got what he needed.

On the All Hallows’ Eve of the nineteenth cycle, Fortuna summoned her chosen heralds via an invocation and directed them to the Iniquitus’ domain, accessible through the Portmanteau, an underground portal that led to where the undead society thrived and prospered.

“You’ve finally arrived, Fortuna,” Amaranth said icily as Fortuna and the new heralds entered the meeting chamber. “It has taken you _nineteen_ cycles to find his heralds?”

“In these cycles,” Fortuna began to explain, “it is difficult to find the undead who seek revenge for the wrongdoings of their past lives. Most are too… soft. So, I believe I have found the best of the best.”

Amaranth wasn’t impressed. “I see. Adaru’s lantern is sitting on the post whenever you are ready.”

A wide grin formed on Fortuna's face as she picked up the ancient relic with her bare hands. Fire was not a force that bothered her, especially considering the many realms she traveled through, both realistic and otherworldly.

“Throughout the cycles," Fortuna said, "I have assigned you to become the heralds of Adaru, the Lord of Fear, on his behalf. You must understand that now, it is your duty to personify the element of fear for which you have been assigned. Chaos, Death, Sacrifice, Legend, Vengeance. You are the ones chosen to pave the way toward a greater evil. In death, you will find your true purpose."

“Then who the hell are you?” Jack, the herald of Chaos, asked rudely.

Fortuna smirked and cocked her head in Jack’s direction, a dangerous spark rising in her green eyes. “I am Lady Luck. Arranging fate has been my purpose since time began, thus bringing myself closer to Fear than you would ever imagine. We share quite a special bond, Adaru and I.” She turned her attention back to the lantern. “Now, we must reawaken Adaru so he may reign over fear again! Please join hands.”

The heralds hesitated and awkwardly formed a circle, joining each other's hands. Fortuna made her way to the center and raised the lantern high in the air, her arms nearly becoming engulfed by the wild flames. The lid rattled with a loud clattering; Adaru knew the moment for his release had arrived, being imprisoned in flames worse than Hell's for far too long.

A wild chant passed from Fortuna's lips, frenzied words in a guttural language no one but Bone and Amaranth could comprehend. The heralds exchanged confused looks - and Jack stifled a laugh - before Fortuna turned and noticed the heralds couldn't understand a word she was saying. Not many were fluent in Sumerian, the language of fear.

"I believe there is an easier way to invoke Adaru," Amaranth said, rising from her seat to confront Fortuna. "Not all mortals are fluent in the Gods' way of speaking."

"Then tell them," Fortuna said coldly.

Amaranth cleared her throat. "We wish to summon the Lord of Fear, for darkness and decay thrive here.”

Fortuna slowly nodded. "We shall recite that message, and hopefully Adaru will gain enough strength to make his way out of the lantern."

The chant echoed throughout the chamber, each repeat more menacing and malicious than the previous. As the heralds' combined voices became stronger, the lantern fell from Fortuna's hands and onto the ground, freeing a burst of fire where Fortuna previously stood. Flesh replaced flame as a clawed, brambly hand shot through the curtain of fire, then a cloven hoof, until finally, a monstrous demon made his presence known with a phlegmy growl.

Like a phoenix, Adaru sprang back to life to begin anew. Ashes rained down on his broad shoulders like a darkened stream of rain as he grinned toothily at his captive audience - his heralds. The motley crew assembled looked to be a measly bunch – consisting half of elderly persons and a clown for who knows what reason – but they may come to prove themselves sooner or later.

And then, he saw  _her_. Fortuna, the very bane of his existence, his rival since the dawn of time.

“You’ve brought me my heralds, Fortuna?” Adaru’s voice sounded gravelly from not being in use for so long.

“Yes, my lord.” Fortuna’s sultry voice stabbed through him like nails, and her obedient tone of voice amused him. “It took me a bit longer than I hoped to find them, but I think you will be pleased. All of them have sworn loyalty to us and the Iniquitus, and they wish to help you with your conquest of usurping the world with fear.”

Adaru glanced toward Bone and Amaranth and chuckled darkly. "You will finally learn that I do not mean to harm the undead, only to help. With a leader to guide the undead, we shall be able to thrive amongst the likes of men!"

"But certainly we do not need a dictator to—“ Bone began to say.

Amaranth shushed the Grim Reaper with a wave of her hand. "There is a specific reason why we have decided to give Adaru a final chance in his attempts, Bone. The undead are dying. We must help them, and if we have to resort to Adaru's ways of thinking, then...” Her words faltered. “Then it is what we must do."

"I have ensured the best of the undead were hired to assist us with your purpose," Fortuna told Adaru. "We will need not to worry about anyone defecting from your rule. Do not forget the mortals, Adaru. Their fear and terror are what we must attain if we want our society to thrive.”

Bone coughed into his skeletal fist. "Well, then. I was only trying to make sure we were acting upon the right means."

"Enough of this protest!" Adaru lumbered over to his new heralds, growling in perusal. "My heralds... you will now bring forth the element you personify to the living, so you may watch them suffer over the rule of fear. I do not want their souls to go to waste. You must bring them forth to me so I may live for the next nineteen cycles, and possibly, the rest of the time that the Earth shall turn.”

“What exactly are your plans to vanquish the living, my lord?” Paulo, the herald of sacrifice, inquired. “I need some new scenes for my latest film, and—“

“Lord Adaru shall not be questioned,” Fortuna interrupted him stiffly, “and in turn, he shall not question you. Do not worry about his plans for the future. You shall know them soon enough.”

Once the heralds departed, the advisory gathered to begin forming their plans for the twentieth cycle. The High Council had been planning to separate all the species of undead into different nomenclatures, based on their stamina and physical attributes that helped the society thrive. These nomenclatures, Adaru realized, could be tailored toward his goal of reigning over fear and ultimately the undead. A king had his advisers - he had his heralds. He also needed his army, his soldiers - and thus, the Legions of Horror were born. Once a mortal died and became one with the afterlife, they would be assigned a Legion and receive the proper training to fight against mortality. But there were only so many souls to be accounted for the universe.

Where shall he start his search?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes!
> 
> 1\. In his past life, Adaru was a devout worshipper of Hades (reference to 2010's "Hades: The Gates of Ruin" house) and practically idolized him. Unfortunately, before Adaru could become Hades's herald, he did something that Hades did not approve of (this will be revealed in a future chapter), so he was banished and became the demon/personification of fear.
> 
> 2\. Lady Luck/Fortuna is the daughter of Zeus and Klotho, or "the Spinner" of the Moirai. Fortuna once had good intentions, but she essentially went through a rebellious phase that lasted way longer than it should've. 
> 
> 3\. At HHN 22, the Iniquitus were more or less the ones involved in the summoning of the legions. Here, I decided to flesh them out a bit by making them 'the body of the undead law'. Balen was inspired by the winged Grim Reaper characters, while Amaranth is an entirely original character of mine.


	2. ZombieGeddon

**Carey, Ohio. October 2010.**

_Click._

"October twenty-third, twenty-ten. The rumored day when the Icons are suppose to raise their body count to the max, but the world's at a standstill. No undead activity within the vicinity of East Main Street, Dad."

“Huh, that’s odd. Normally the zombies would’ve shown up by now. You sure you’re over by where Georgie said he saw a horde of Kerezans the other night, Kristen?”

“I’m positive. I’ll fire to see if anything shows up.”

Fog clotted up the vacant streets of East Main Street, the blinking marquee lights of the Universal Palace Theater visible through the thick, cloudy veil. It was an atmosphere worthy of a suspenseful horror movie scene, where the dead stayed quiet and hidden until the right moment came to strike. Carey had become a strange ghost town in the past month, even more so than usual, and no one could explain why so many of its residents simply disappeared.

The citizens of Carey, Ohio were no strangers to ghost sightings or the occasional wandering zombie. The supernatural first came in small doses; documents mark that the first time a ghost was spotted was all the way back in 1929, when Malcolm Wyandot killed his party guests and committed suicide in his Wyandot Estate. It wasn’t until the Spirit Seekers’ intervention in 2009 did the ghosts of the party guests awaken, leading the way for more members of the undead to rise to the Earth and feast on mortal flesh. Carey’s citizens realized that their town was a site of supernatural disaster, and that the stories told of the mortician in his manor and the usher in his movie theater weren't just spooky stories to tell in the dark. As the death rate increased, people became worried and took notice that something needed to be done to protect their town.

Enter the Zombie Awareness Program, or ZAP for short. Their mission was to aid the frightened and train the determined, making Carey's streets battlefields almost every day. They were led by Kristen Romero, daughter of the zombie enthusiast Tom Romero. Ever since she was a little girl, Kristen was trained to fight against the undead. Even though her father taught her the art of zombie hunting the moment she was old enough to hold a gun, Kristen had once doubted that zombies existed. As the Romeros used to live in New Orleans, they saw the occasional voodoo spirit prowling around in the woods, and nothing much else. However, after a horde of Kerezans took siege of a Mardi Gras parade and brutally bit into anyone crossing their path - including Kristen's very own mother - Kristen officially joined her father's surprisingly government-funded business and used everything her father taught her to lead the Young Adult division of fighters… that only consisted of three fighters, plus herself.

A round from Kristen’s Marlin 1894CB rifle pierced through the fog. Instead of landing into a zombie's chest as she hoped it would, the bullet crashed to the ground, its clattering echoing throughout the vacant street.

Kristen switched her walkie-talkie back on. “Nothing, Dad.”

“Then you guys might want to wait it out. Chances are they’ll show up sooner or later.”

“Ten-four.” Kristen placed her walkie-talkie back in the holster of her belt. "Ethan, Nina? Coast is clear. You guys can come out now."

"You know, it's a good thing there aren't any zombies out here yet." Ethan strolled from out of the fog, resting a protective hand around the handle of his chainsaw. "I'm not ready to fight them off just yet."

"Don't they usually hang out near this movie theater?" Nina timidly followed behind Ethan, her brown eyes scanning the area. " _Gallinero_ , it's always so intimidating out here! You never know when something's gonna come out at us."

"That's why you've got to be careful, Nina!" Ethan growled and grabbed Nina's shoulders. "Or else a Kerezan's gonna come at you and eat your throat!"

"Ethan!" Nina screeched. "You asshole!"

"Ethan, cut it out." Kristen gently pulled her girlfriend close to her side. "You know Nina doesn't like when you joke around like that."

"Heh, sorry, Kris." Ethan brushed back strands of black hair hanging in his eyes. "And sorry, Nina."

"Shh!" Kristen held up her hand to silence Ethan. "I think I hear something!"

The moaning of hungry Kerezans, a low, guttural sound that only the most tortured of souls were able to make echoed throughout the eastern section of Main Street. A mass of zombies then emerged from the thicket of fog, stumbling toward the comrades mindlessly. Still dressed in their torn-up civilian clothing, their mouths hung open, agape in hunger, as they craved the taste of human flesh in between their jagged, rotten teeth.

Kristen frantically grabbed her walkie-talkie. "Dad, the zombies are here! They look ferocious this evening!"

“Great!” Tom said excitedly on the other line. “You know my motto, right?”

“The more zombies dead, the more wasted time the Icons dread!” Kristen and her comrades said in unison.

“And hopefully Adaru won’t rear his ugly, demonic head!” Ethan added with a chuckle.

“Good job, kids! Now go and kick some zombie ass!”

“We sure will.” Kristen placed her walkie-talkie back into the holster. “Prepare your weapons, guys!”

Through the viewfinder of her rifle, Kristen lined up the crosshairs on the leader of the horde, a bald, portly man with gray skin and white eyes. The thrill of the kill always empowered her. The way blood splattered onto the streets, the way gore chunks flew up in the air. It almost made her forget her mother was victim to the Kerezans' curse, too.

“Wait for it…” Kristen murmured to herself. “Wait for it… Nina, don’t forget to hold your fire until I say so…”

“I can’t help it!” Nina whispered. “I get nervous!”

The zombies stumbled so closely to the comrades that they now stood face to face with them, snarling and reaching their hands out to clench their throats.

Kristen smirked and cocked her head. "Really? Is that the best y'all got?"

The leader growled, bearing his rotten teeth in Kristen's face.

“Strike!”

The fighting began immediately as the comrades took each side of the zombie horde - Ethan to the left, Kristen dead in center, and Nina to the right. Kristen approached the leader and used her bare hands to snap his fat neck and shoot a bullet right into his mouth. Nina used her Glock pistol to fire a shot through a female zombie's temple, and as if by luck, the bullet pierced right through the area of her still-functioning brain. Ethan was a madman with his chainsaw, running past a group of zombies and shoving the chainsaw's charging blade into their stomachs, spewing out copious amounts of blood and eventually intestines.

Nina didn't take the idea of getting messy in battle very lightly. She flinched as a small chunk of zombie brain landed onto her shoulder and into her braided ponytail, flinging her hair to get rid of the gore. This was the perfect moment for a Kerezan to stumble behind her and grab the back of her pink shirt, his mouth wide open to sink his teeth into her flesh. 

"Nina!" Kristen cried out in alarm and kicked the attacking zombie aside, freeing Nina in the process. "You're doing great, but you gotta keep it up!"

As the comrades continued to shoot, stab, and kick their way through the horde, the Universal Palace Theater opened her doors for the evening. The Usher of the theater, Julian Browning, observed the battle through the window of his ticket booth, watching the comrades closely with a keen, not milky eye, looking out for any other wrongdoings he should report to the rest of the Icons. He then found the leader of the rebels, a young woman wearing dark leather and a crooked smile, a face that read of determination to win the battle. She took up the offer of using a chainsaw provided by a young man with black hair in his eyes to decapitate one of the last Kerezans remaining. Blood squirted in all directions as she sliced the blade against its throat, and a splatter of blood and a chunk of brain landed on the ticket booth window. 

"Imbeciles." Julian bent down to retrieve a rag. "They will see what happens when the Icons are defied."

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, only one Kerezan remained.

“Let’s make this last one’s death a true act of friendship!” Ethan exclaimed. “Help me out, guys!”

Kristen stood behind Ethan as he proceeded to rev up his chainsaw, sending strongly scented gas fumes into the air, exhilirating Kristen even more. She placed fresh bullets into her rifle, and after raising the muzzle and prepping the trigger, she shot the staggering Kerezan right in the head. Wounded, the zombie still walked with a stumbling gait, so Ethan went right up to it and sliced his chainsaw's blade right across the torso, severing the upper half from the torso. The bottom half fell limp onto the ground, but the Kerezan used its arms in lieu of legs, climbing toward the trio with his rotten teeth bared in hunger.

"Triple tap!" Nina ran right up to the severed zombie and shot three bullets into its forehead. Blood and chunks of gore stained the streets with a sickly, fleshy mess, but as the Kerezan lost all conscious and collapsed onto its stomach, the comrades knew for sure that another zombie had been slaughtered for the good of mortality.

"Great work, Nina!" Kristen said, beaming proudly at her girlfriend.

"And to make sure this slaughter session becomes a full-blown exodus," Ethan continued, drawing out a stick of dynamite and a lighter from his hoodie pocket, "let us light the streets with fire!"

Ethan lit the tail end of the dynamite string and threw the stick into the mass pile of undead bodies. The comrades watched in anticipation of the moment when the zombies became engulfed in the fiery flames, smoke drifting up into the darkened October skies. The stench of decomposition spread throughout East Main Street, becoming so strong that Nina buried her face into her arm to block out the putrid scent. Emotionally, the comrades weren’t affected that much. Their faces lit up as the zombies became nothing but charred ashes, remnants of lives that once thrived among mortality. These creatures were responsible for many of the losses she suffered in their lives. It was only fair to give the tainted lives taken over by chaos and madness what they secretly hoped for – the sweet, welcoming embrace of death.

“Thirty-two Kerezans officially dead,” Kristen said happily in her walkie-talkie. “We’ve done it again!”

“Just another day of slaying zombies for mortal conquest!” Tom replied with glee, which made Kristen chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t mean to sound so cheesy there. Come on back to base guys, we’ve managed to get a pizza from those supply-dealers a few blocks away.”

The comrades slung their weapons against their shoulders and hurried back to base, failing to notice a threat looming some feet behind them, armed with a flashlight and a vengeful nature. 

***

The music of AC/DC resonated loudly through Training Room A as Kristen and her comrades paraded inside, receiving cheers and applause from the rookies in training. The training room was designed for the test zombies, the 'un-live specimens' as Tom and George dubbed them. The zombies were very much undead, gnawing at their own rotting lips and at the humans standing a hundred or so feet away from them. Luckily, the zombies were restrained, chained and bolted to a sturdy pole by their waists. They also wore collars with blinking LED lights that helped to warn the rookies when they were about to strike.

"Now, remember you guys," Scott, one of ZAP's teachers, addressed a group of rookies, "when the zombie's collar is yellow, he's..."

"Mellow!" the rookies chorused.

"Right! And when it's red..."

"You're dead!"

"Right again, guys! We don't want to provoke this Kerezan specimen any longer, as you can tell by his collar." Scott pointed to the blinking yellow light on one of the test zombies' collars, and shook his head for dramatic effect. "Now, does anyone remember what the best kill shot for a Kerezan is?"

The group went silent.

"No one knows? Really? Come on you guys, this is Zombie Hunting 101 info here!"

"Head shot!" Kristen snuck up behind Scott and placed her hands on his shoulders, imitating the sounds of a hungry Kerezan wandering the streets. “I want to eat your flesh, Scott!”

“Jesus H. Christ, Kristen!" Scott jumped in his stance, startled. "You scared the shit out of me!”

"And you should shoot it twice if you want to be sure they're dead as dirt,” Kristen added. “Sure, the chest is a good target, but how are you gonna know if he’s down? Zombies can spring back up and continue to strike, you know. So, you need to do a double-tap shot to make sure you’re good. Or, if you’re like me and you’re super paranoid, you do a triple-tap shot. Three shots right in a row, and your zombie is good as dead!”

"There you go, guys, tips straight from the source!” Scott told his students with a shaky laugh. “Next time you're out on the field, you'll be thanking Kristen for that one. Just, whatever you do, make sure _not_ to scare your comrades like that, okay? It’s so easy to be scared to death here in Carey, if you get what I mean.”

Nodding at Scott’s remark, Kristen sauntered off to a secluded spot away from the action. Her fourteen year old sister Hayley sat on a blue metal chair near the supply closet, reading _The Zombie Survival Guide_ by Max Brooks with a highlighter in hand. In Carey, a work of fiction relating to the supernatural or the undead could now be considered a survival guide, and Hayley’s book was no exception.

“Hey, Hayley!” Kristen crouched down to the chair’s level. “Are you studying hard?”

“Of course I am, Kristen,” Hayley said quietly, adjusting her eyeglasses. “I got finished with the section about gun control again.”

Hayley secretly wished to be out on the battlefield with her older sister and her friends, yet she was deemed too young by her father and George; the minimum age to even start training was sixteen because of all the rigorous risks that zombie hunting provided, such as being fatally wounded or bitten. She hadn’t shown an interest in zombie hunting until recently, and even then, Tom babied her, as she was his “precious little angel”. Hayley was too shy to speak up against her father’s thoughts, and thus kept to herself. For now, she was given a copy of the famous survival guide to study from, and she read it with stride.

“Let me see what chapter you’re reading.” Hayley bent back the corner of her book to show Kristen the title of the chapter she was on. “Terrain types… oh yeah, the forest! Forests can be quite deadly, sissy. Rumor even says that there’s some type of manor where all the Icons gather together! Of course, we haven't found it, not yet, anyway!”

“Are you sure our base is safe from all the zombies out there?” Hayley asked. “I… I mean, they could come in at any minute—“

“Of course it is!” Kristen exclaimed. “We’ve basically got all of the zombie hunting equipment that exists, and whenever a zombie tries to break in, we’ve got the security machine guns out front! They’ll be nothing but shredded flesh by the time they reach the door!”

“Pizza!” Tom bellowed from the front door.

"Dad!" Kristen rushed up to her father and helped him carry three pizza boxes to an arrangement of five folding tables in the farthest corner of the training room. "Oh my God, you won't believe what went out on the battlefield tonight!"

"Tell me everything!" Tom said enthusiastically, sitting down in his favorite, but beaten up, armchair. "Any sign from that Adaru guy yet?"

"Nope." Kristen hungrily swiped a pepperoni slice and continued talking through mouthfuls of food. "We've had a few more zombies than usual, but they got wiped out in no time. They died easily, though. Usually the late-night stragglers are slower to get."

“All right! And what about that freak Usher that keeps on spying on you guys? Did you see him at all?”

Out of all of Fear’s heralds, the Usher frightened Kristen the most. The way he looked at her with a mix of rage and intrigue in his mismatched eyes always sent shivers down her spine. Why was he so madly obsessed with her? At times, Kristen thought that he wanted to come out of that ticket booth and get involved in the action, but then she remembered that he was one of Fear’s heralds. Vengeance, specifically. Vengeance was one of Kristen’s motives, but she didn’t let vengeance define her, unlike the Usher who always seemed to have a pole up his ass when it came to following rules.

“Eh, I got a quick glance at him while I was breaking one of the zombies’ necks." Kristen shrugged. "He was weirdly ogling at me as usual. Like, sorry dude! I'm taken!"

“Well, not to worry, Kristen. We’ll get that guy dead in no time, once his four other friends are done with first!”

As Kristen spoke with her father, the other comrades went to work. Ethan stopped next to a trainee armed with a crossbow, his aim severely crooked. Although he was blind, Daryl came to ZAP almost every day to learn the art of zombie hunting. He was interested in weaponry, and the release of an arrow from the holster excited him. Unfortunately, the kill was less of one. He could only rely on the sound of the grunting zombie to know he had achieved victory.

"Hey, Daryl, you might want to aim the crossbow a little bit higher,” Ethan suggested, going behind him to fix his arms. “If you're too low, you won't hit the zombie in the right place!"

"But what if I hit its torso?" Daryl asked.

"Well, it's a start, but if you really want the zombie to die a beautiful, bloody death, you need to aim for the head. That's the number one spot for it to just go boom, splat! Scott and Kristen were just teaching the new trainees about it, too. The brain's a sorry target."

Meanwhile, Nina stood by the gun rack with her uncle, George Savini, Tom's longtime business partner.

“I think it broke out on the field!” Nina had her finger on the trigger of her Glock pistol, but couldn’t push it all the way down. “It was working just fine before. Sometimes, the trigger gets stuck in the middle and fires off anyway, and then other times, I can’t even press it down!”

“I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart,” George told his niece. “Right now, it looks like you’re probably going to need a new Glock entirely. This Glock’s old, it’s overused. How about you level up to a Remington 870? They’re small, but they do a lot of damage, too!”

“No way! I’m not good with big weapons like Kristen, Uncle George. I told you that too many times! And besides, I haven’t leveled up in my skill yet. Tom and Ethan still need to do the aim test with me later!” Since Nina was still in training, she was only able to use her Glock and not much else. Besides, she was absolutely terrified to approach the bigger guns like the Marlins and Remingtons, anyway.

Just then, the door of Training Room A swung open, creating a loud, reverberating noise when it bounced off the metal walls.

The rookies jumped in shock as a tall, pale man dressed in an old movie theater usher’s uniform glided in nonchalantly, a torch-styled flashlight in his gloved hands. The dark bruises around his eyes and the ligature marks that coiled around his neck clearly gave away that he was undead, a Kerezan, specifically, a force to be reckoned with.

“A Kerezan!” a newbie screamed from her spot at the target range. “Somebody shoot him!”

“Damn it!” Tom exclaimed, throwing down his third slice of pizza in a hurry. “The security machine guns must be out of ammo. They would’ve gotten this undead fucker in a heartbeat!”

“I’ll take these guys to Training Room B, Tom,” Scott said over the cries of his panicking students. “Come on, gang! Nothing to see here!”

Julian glared at the departing rookies as they gathered together and followed Scott through the side-door that led to the next training room. Some of the braver rookies stayed behind, eager to see how the Kerezan altercation would go down. Their guns were slung down to their hips, ready to shoot the Usher bloodless if they had to.

“Hold your pellets,” Tom told the trainees, holding out a hand to stop them. “A soft sack of fabric isn’t going to hurt this zombie, that’s for sure.”

“Mr. Romero, I presume?” Julian made his way toward Tom. “If you don’t mind me intruding, we have some rather important… business to take care of. I am Julian Browning, Lord Adaru’s herald of vengeance.”

The trainees gasped, a fury of whispers circulating among them.

“Yeah, yeah, we know who you are,” Tom replied sharply. “Just because you think you’re an intelligent zombie doesn’t mean we care what you have to say. What the hell do you want?”

“We prefer the term ‘undead’ or ‘Kerezan’, if you don’t mind," Julian replied, unaffected by Tom's remarks. "Speaking of Kerezan, I was witness to about thirty of them being murdered by three of your… fighters this evening. You do know that this is a violation of Lord Adaru’s orders, correct?”

“Fuck Lord Adaru!” Rick, a boisterous rookie, shouted from one of the shooting ranges. “He’s the one responsible for fucking up this town!”

Julian charged toward Rick and flicked his flashlight on, giving light to the reflector which he then pressed onto Rick's arm. The power of the light caused Rick's arm to bubble with burns, like his arm was stuck inside of a fire. Rick let out an agonized cry of pain as he sank to his knees, writhing and shaking as the pain succumbed to him. A few of the trainees ran up to save him, but Julian quickly rose his flashlight up in his hand, ready to strike at any opportune moment. As the herald of vengeance, he was the lawman, the one who ensured the rules were followed. If they weren't, the rule breaker would suffer harshly.

“Furthermore,” Julian continued, “I’ve noticed that the persons killing my fellow Kerezans, as well as the other legions, had a leader to guide them… a woman with a rifle, I recall.” 

“Are you talking about me, Mr. Creepy Usher Man?” The Usher’s cold gaze made Kristen nervously chuckle in her attempt to defend herself, while her blood thinned in guilt. He was already trying to play a game with her, and although he was one of Adaru’s heralds, she’d defeat him pretty quickly if she had to. “I couldn’t have _possibly_ killed your zombie friends out there!”

“But you did,” Julian replied coldly, taking a step toward her. “I’ve watched you for the past few weeks shooting your rounds and ridding them of their precious afterlives. I am not a gullible man, my dear. I know exactly what you're up to."

Tom jumped in front of Kristen, holding out his arms to shield her away from Julian. “You will not infect my daughter with your zombie disease! Just because she killed your type of undead doesn’t mean she should be punished for killing Strengoit or Cerebin!”

“Believe me, Mr. Romero,” Julian continued, “I have Strengoit acquaintances that have definitely complained of their legion slowly dying out because of your daughter and her friends. They kill them every day in front of my theater.”

“We need to kill all the undead or else Carey’s entire population will be gone!” Kristen protested. “Just take a good look at our name, the Zombie Awareness Program. We’re making the undead known to everyone too scared to even come out of their houses, and getting rid of the threat they create! We’re protecting everybody from that demon!”

“But you all are destroying Lord Adaru’s purpose,” Julian replied, unaffected by Kristen's remarks, “and as per his own words, any person, whether they be mortal or undead that tries to destroy his purpose, shall be put to trial immediately. Ms. Romero, I observed about five or six of your… murders, and it’s time we put an end to it.” He offered his hand to Kristen, about to offer a choice like Fortuna would’ve. “You have two choices. You can either come with me to Lord Adaru’s cavern for your trial, or I can kill you right this instant and have your soul sent straight to him.”

“How about neither of them?” Kristen asked maliciously. “Is neither of them an option?”

“I’ve got this, Krissy,” Tom whispered to Kristen, ready to strike the usher with the golf club in his hands. George followed suit, while Nina stayed at Kristen’s side, protectively holding onto her hand. “Look, we don’t advocate your ‘kill people and send their soul to a demon’ shit, buddy. You can either leave and we can all pretend this never happened, or we can kill you with the machine guns out front, once Georgie gets them working again. Hey look, we’re giving you choices, too!”

“Mr. Romero, are you unaware of who I am?” Julian asked coldly.

“Of course I do! You’re just another zombie who needs to die. I don’t care if you’re one of Lord Adaru’s herald freaks—“

Julian lunged out at Tom, flashlight in hand, and pushed the bigger man down to his knees. Tom struggled to get off the floor, which gave Julian the perfect moment to drive his flashlight right into the side of Tom's head, knocking him unconscious with just one hit. Each hit sent an echoing, crunching sound throughout the training room, startling the rookies from their pleading. Blood seeped out from the back of Tom's head and formed a small puddle on the gray, linoleum floor, a sign that the famed zombie hunter's end was near.

"Ff-fuck you!" Tom shouted, bringing a hand to his bleeding wound.

"You mortal _fool_." Julian grabbed Tom by his throat, choking him with a solitary hand. "Mark my words, I will have your Awareness Program shut down and have Lord Adaru's purpose take its wing. My fellow Icons cannot stand you and your fighters killing our people any longer. It is time we put an end to the war you are trying to create."

“Tom!” George exclaimed in horror. He glanced at the rookies retreating to the back of the room, screaming and pleading for the usher to stop. “Somebody get the first aid kit and get to Tom and Rick! Hurry!”

"Dad!" Kristen shrieked, breaking from Nina's grip to kneel to her father’s level. "Oh my God, he hit you so hard... George, hurry up! We might need to stitch him up, the wound's pretty deep! Don't worry, Dad, we're going to get you better, just you wait—“

Julian then pulled Kristen back up to her feet, sharply turning her around so that she stared him straight in the eyes. The mere sight of the usher's remorseless, undead face only intensified Kristen's cries of horror, knowing that her father's potential murderer didn't care at all that another human soul was withering away.

"Why did you do this? He didn't do anything wrong to you!"

"In case you have forgotten, I am the herald of vengeance," Julian said stiffly. "It is my duty to ensure that those who rebel against Adaru's rule be taken out through the appropriate matters." He then dragged Kristen out of the training room and eventually out of the warehouse itself, all while she screamed and begged for mercy.

"Come on, Ethan, we're following him," Nina ordered, grabbing Ethan's hand. They trudged out of the warehouse and back out into the undead ridden streets, paying no attention to the scent of smoke and decay that still lingered from their exodus. They came across Julian and Kristen by the ticket booth of the Universal Palace Theater, their reflections visible through the glass.

“Stay back.” Julian noticed the comrades' reflections and turned his head, making Nina and Ethan freeze in their tracks. He gripped his flashlight as tightly as he did with Kristen's wrist, preparing to knock the comrades out cold just as he did to Tom.

“Don’t even think about hurting us, buddy,” Ethan told Julian defensively. “We’ll be attending Kristen’s trial as witnesses. If we killed just as many undead as her, we deserve to go through what she’s going through!”

“Ms. Romero does not need any… _witnesses_ ,” Julian said condescendingly. “I am certain she will receive a lengthy sentence regardless of whomever sticks up for her.”

“Yeah, right,” Nina retorted with a roll of her eyes. 

Ethan and Nina then followed Julian into the lobby of the Universal Palace Theater, where the usher made his residence. They bypassed the Kerezan ushers and usherettes watching their boss in morbid curiosity, waiting to see what he would do with the fallen heroine. Meanwhile, a concessions worker with dark skin and brown eyes caught Nina's eye, watching sympathetically as Julian dragged Kristen past an open, black gate and within the dark unknown beyond the halls of the theater. Nina noticed the concessions guy looking at her back and shook her head. She didn't quite know what their fates would entail now, especially if they were at the hands of someone as powerful as the Iniquitus.

"We're going in?"

Ethan's question broke off Nina's glance at the concessions guy. Pushing away her doubts, she swallowed down her fear and nodded her head.

"We're going in."


	3. What Is Dead May Never Die

Ethan caught the hurdling gate in his hand and gestured for Nina to slip into the corridor before he did. From a distance, the two saw a faint ray of light emanating from Julian's flashlight some feet away, and his creaky voice echoed throughout the hall, uttering a cryptic phrase in a foreign language.

The dark unknown transformed the further Nina and Ethan traveled down the corridor. The walls once lined with old horror movie posters and red damask wallpaper changed into cavernous, murky walls, and rust-colored stalagmites stabbed through the ceiling, crooning over their heads, sharp enough to pierce through their skulls.

"Ethan?" Nina took Ethan's hand and squeezed it tightly. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure." Ethan shared Nina's uncertainty. "I think we've stumbled into the Chamber of Secrets."

"Look!" Nina gasped in relief and pointed her finger at a clearing in the cavern, wide and circular. "I think Kristen's over there!"

A tall, dark demon with no eyes sat on a throne carved from hundreds of skulls and bones, his torn cape draped over his broad shoulders. He clicked his gnarled fingernails against a skull-topped armrest, baring his sharp teeth as the Usher pushed Kristen to her knees in front of him.

"I've found the undead slayer, my lord," Julian said proudly. "Quite a rebellious girl. She tried defending herself out of her trial... meaninglessly on her behalf."

A woman dressed in green standing next to the demon let out a haughty laugh. Her auburn hair was disheveled and matted, while her face was slightly disfigured, more hag-like than human.

"Is... is that?" Nina couldn't complete her question; fear took over her voice.

"Yeah, Nina, that's them," Ethan said uneasily. "That's Lord Adaru and Lady Luck."

Eddie Schmidt, a friend of the Romero family and the brother of Jack, herald of Chaos, was the to-go man when it came to information and rumors about the heralds. He defected from the Icons, as he was never made a herald. No one knew why he decided to assist the rebels and their cause. “You better be damn careful when you see them,” Eddie had said. “If you disrespect any of the heralds in the slightest, they’ll have your throat. They’ll use you as another soul for old Adaru, who’s just desperate to have them all.”

Kristen glared up at the demon fearlessly, her green eyes filled with hate and disgust.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, _mortal_?" Adaru rasped. "Or will you continue to stand there and pretend as if we will let you free?"

"I've been told about you," Kristen said ruefully. "Fear... that's a strange concept to me. I've almost forgotten what fear means."

"Insolent girl!" Adaru rose from his throne and lumbered toward Kristen. "I taste your fear with every passing minute. Fear flows through your veins. You don't need to tell me you're immune."

"Did I say that?" Kristen raised an eyebrow to show she wasn't afraid, through her trembling body convinced Adaru otherwise. "Let me tell you something, you ugly son of a bitch. I'm not afraid of you, and neither are my comrades!"

“Silence!” Adaru’s voice boomed throughout the cavern. “Vengeance, go and get the others. Tell them that a rather eventful trial shall be taking place.”

“Yes, my lord.” Julian turned to leave the cavern.

“Fortuna,” Adaru added, “I want you to send a message to Balen and Amaranth and to seize any materials from the place the girl came from.”

"Of course, my Lord." In the blink of an eye, Luck transformed from an ugly hag to a beautiful temptress, with pouty red lips and a smoldering look in her green eyes. 

“What?” Kristen cried. “You can’t do that!”

Adaru straggled over to Kristen and grabbed a hold of her neck in his brambly hand. “A mortal like you cannot understand the forces I am able to control. Vengeance told me you have been defying my order, and I will take all the liberties in my power to constrain you from destroying my purpose for mortality.” He then let her go, dropping her to the floor.

“It was _your_ choice, Kristen," Luck said with a snide giggle.

“It was _my_ choice to defend my friends, family, and fellow citizens from being killed?” Kristen asked angrily. “It had to be done! I’m not going to let anyone fall into your trap!”

“And us, too.” Nina emerged from the boulder she and Ethan hid behind. “We’re attending this trial as witnesses and support for Kristen.”

“Oh, thank God you guys showed up!” Kristen gasped in relief.

Luck stopped in her tracks, glancing back at Nina. “Mere mortals won’t be able to get your friend out of Kristen's… predicament, if you will."

“We aren’t going to give up,” Nina declared. “As long as there’s ZAP, we’ll make sure that we get most of the undead killed.”

“And how do you think you’ll defend yourselves? Words and physical threats just won’t do.” Luck turned on her heel. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to report to the base of your little Zombie Awareness Program and collect all of Kristen’s beloved weapons.”

Kristen hung her head in defeat as Luck made her exit out of the cavern. Nina rushed to her girlfriend's side and buried her hand into Kristen's dark hair, as she usually did whenever Kristen suffered from an anxiety attack.

"I don't know what to do, Nina." Kristen held her hand tightly, staining tawny skin with incoming tears and smudgy eyeliner. "I... I don't have my rifle."

"But you have your cunning," Nina told her calmly. "I know you're strong enough to kick their butts, Kristen. You've done so with the weaker dead, so why not the stronger ones, too?"

“That’s exactly the reason why, Nina! The heralds aren’t dumb. They serve for Adaru, so it’s harder to destroy them!”

"Shh, shh, Kristen..." Nina held Kristen close to her. "It'll be okay. We'll take this one step at a time. First, we'll tackle that freaky usher guy who keeps staring at my girlfriend, and then maybe we'll go after that creepy clown next. He's always given me the heebie-jeebies."

"You can do this, Kris." Ethan knelt down and patted his cousin's knee reassuringly. "Just tell these assholes the truth!"

Adaru staggered toward the comrades with two muscled Baccanoid warriors in tow. The warriors forced Kristen off the ground and threw her arms behind her back, restraining her from making another move. They tied her arms together with a dark strand of twine and drew out their swords, crossing them in front of Kristen so it was impossible for her to break free from their grasp. The swords of the Baccanoids were always so sharp that they easily punctured through the skin, leaving thin lines of blood on their victims. It was no wonder why they'd be acting as the force of security during the trial.

"So now the hunter realizes her end is near," Adaru hissed, forcing Kristen to gaze into the dark spots where his eyes should've been. "These mortals may serve as a mere audience for your sentencing, and nothing more."

"What are you doing to her?" Nina ran toward Kristen as the Baccanoid warriors marched her to the back of the cavern. "Let her go!"

“Nina, we have to hide,” Ethan whispered, grabbing her hand. They hurried back behind the boulder just in time, as Luck returned with Kristen’s seized license and rifle in her arms. A group of undead people followed behind her, all cloaked and sending icy glares in Kristen's direction. Since their induction in the nineteenth cycle, the Order of Fear, or the Icons as they were most commonly known, had become more loyal and understanding toward Adaru and his purpose, and begun their task of killing and retrieving human souls.

But perhaps the more grotesque and ancient of the group were the ones Kristen and her comrades feared the most. They were the Iniquitus, and Eddie hadn't said much about them other than that if you managed to catch a glimpse of them, you were lucky to even survive. Aside from the usual zombie, vampire, and slightly off-kilter, humane looking undead, Balen and Amaranth were the most frightening creatures they'd ever seen. Balen was a literal Grim Reaper with a slice of Angel, as a pair of feathery, black wings grew from out of his back, while Amaranth had the dark red, scaly flesh of a dragon and fangs as thin as needles.

“Kristen Romero,” Luck began, standing in front of Adaru, “you are being put on trial because you have slaughtered many of Lord Adaru's subjects, as well as convincing others to defy his orders. Furthermore, you are also being put on trial for being involved in a group specifically for killing members of the Legions of Horror. This is a direct violation of his authority, and for this, you shall go punished for your actions." She turned to Adaru and handed him Kristen's seized objects. "How shall she suffer, my Lord?"

Adaru sat upright in his throne. “Your first punishment will be that under my rule, you are no longer permitted to be involved with the Zombie Awareness Program in any shape or form. Starting tomorrow, there will be Baccanoids guarding the entrance to ensure that you don’t even enter the premises, and in a few days, the program will eventually close.”

“What?!’ Ethan and Nina shouted in unison.

Adaru turned his attention to Ethan and Nina, easily finding their hiding place behind the boulders. “Did I not say that you are merely an audience and not part of the advisory? You best keep your mouths shut or else your tongues shall be ripped out!”

“You mean there are… more mortals here, Adaru?” Balen's skeletal head panned over the room. “More mortals to try and defend the girl?”

“She deserves no such treatment,” Amaranth said coldly.

“Do not mind them,” Adaru told the Iniquitus. “They came to witness how the undead law comes into play upon a mortal. I do not blame them for their curiosity."

The demon resumed his business by first setting down the Marlin and holding up Kristen's plastic zombie hunting license. After a moment or so of blind examination, he flipped the card over so that Kristen could see her photo and information on the front. She forced herself to hold back tears; her photo was taken the day she turned eighteen, the same day when she passed all her classes with her father by her side. A bright, happy smile graced the younger Kristen's face, but the card soon became snapped in half, the remainders thrown in her face. Despite the heralds' cackles of laughter, Kristen dare didn't scream, merely straightening her posture.

Adaru returned to the Marlin and held the barrel in his hand, glancing down into the muzzle. Displeased, he proceeded to snap the Marlin in half, separating the chamber from the rest of the rifle, denting it so badly with his strong grip that it would be impossible to repair the rifle. Kristen could only stand in a catatonic state of fear, watching as her life's possessions were destroyed in front of her eyes.

“That was her prized possession,” Ethan whispered. “She got it from Wes Bousman, that famous zombie hunter.”

“The one who had half his face chewed off!” Nina replied, remembering her zombie hunting history lessons.

“As for your sentencing,” Adaru continued, “you will be required to leave everything and everyone you love behind. Your family and friends will become merely prey for you now, and you will thrive in the night and not the day. The people of Carey will no longer know you as a hunter. Now, they will know you as Kristen Romero, the undead prisoner of the Icons.”

“Basically, Lord Adaru is telling you that you will become undead, like the ones you killed,” Luck added. “For once, you will know what it’s like to be among the dead.”

“You’re telling me that  _I’m_ going to become undead?” Kristen’s eyes widened as her body shook and a laugh passed her lips, one that read of disbelief and utmost terror. “What makes you think that sentence is good enough?”

“What is she thinking?” Ethan whispered to Nina.

“She’s defending herself,” Nina replied, albeit with uncertainty. “Give her some time.”

“You know, my soul’s been dead for a long, long time,” Kristen continued, “so why make me deader than I already am? To be perfectly honest with you, I already saw this coming. At some point in time, I knew the undead would eventually become too much for all of us at ZAP to handle, and we’d all just die. So nice job, you undead fucks! You tried so hard.”

“You do realize that this will affect you for the rest of your life, correct?” Amaranth inquired. “You wouldn’t be able to see your friends ever again. Your father will go through so much devastation that his dedicated daughter forcefully gave up her life’s dream to become an undead captive. Don’t you understand that?”

“Oh, I know,” Kristen replied curtly, “because I’m not going to become your undead prisoner, and I’m not going to let ZAP close because all of you are so butt-hurt over losing parts of your legions!”

“That’s my girl!” Nina said proudly.

Kristen lifted her head up and tightly wriggled her way out of the Baccanoids' grasp, hitting them both square in the jaw with the meat of her palm. The warriors brandished their swords in defense, but before they could slice through Kristen, she spun on her heel and kicked one warrior in the shin, all while fighting off the other with a slap of her hand. Their swords went clattering to the floor, and she bent down to pick one up, admiring the sharp, needle-like blade for a moment.

"You want this back?" Kristen asked one of the warriors tauntingly. She threw the sword past the heralds' heads and into the darkness behind them. "Then go get it!" She then sharply turned around and rushed back in the direction from where Julian had led her, running as fast as her feet could take her. As she passed by Ethan and Nina’s hiding spot, she gestured for them to get up and follow her out of the cavern, as her throat was becoming too dry for her to speak.

"Don't just stand there, you fools!" Adaru roared at the stunned warriors. "Go after her! She must be stopped!"

Ethan and Nina caught up with Kristen, the Baccanoids slowly but surely pursing the chase behind them. They stomped through murky puddle after puddle, occasionally ducking as to not get stabbed by stalagmites. The underground scenery was only a blur to the three fighters as they tried to flee from the Icons that wanted them dead or alive.

A few moments later, a bright beam of light nearly blinded the three, a sign that their freedom was close. Nina ran up to the gate barring them from their escape and tried to jerk it open, to no avail. The warriors were feet away, getting closer and closer to Kristen. Just as time and luck was about to run out, the concessions employee Nina noticed earlier approached the gate with a silver key in his hand. He eyed the Baccanoids as if he had seen them before, shaking his head in disdain.

"Come on!" Ethan yelled. "They're about to capture us!"

The concessions employee stuck his key in the gate, opening the door. He gestured for the comrades to quickly file into the lobby, and as they did, he slammed the gate in the faces of the Baccanoids.

"That was a good one, dude!" Nina said as the concessions employee locked the gate. "We were worried those Baccanoids would come in and snatch us right up!"

“No problem,” the employee replied, scratching the back of his head, “but I’m going to have to worry about my boss wanting to come back in later.”

“Who, the usher?"

“Yeah, that’s Julian Browning for you. He’s very strict with people following the rules and respecting this theater… oops, I mean, ‘his lady.’”

“He thinks this theater is a living, breathing woman?” Kristen asked snarkily. "He must have some issues."

"Shh!" The employee held a finger to his lips. "Don't say that! Julian can sense people talking smack about the Palace from miles away, even when he's with the demon."

"Great, I hope he doesn't come after me, then," Kristen remarked, shaking her head.

"You've got a name, pal?" Ethan asked.

"I'm Jason," the employee said. "Jason Thomas the Third, but you can call me Jay for short."

“We’re from the Zomb—“ Kristen began.

“Oh, don’t worry!" Jay's face lit up. "I know who you guys are. You’re from ZAP!”

Kristen grinned. “And I’m the infamous Kristen Romero, leader of the Young Adult Division!"

Jay craned his head over the gate. His eyes widened in worry as he noticed Julian making his way back to the lobby, the beam of his flashlight guiding the way.

"I'd love to stay and chat with y'all, but you guys gotta go," Jay said. "He's here!"

"The Phantom of the Universal Palace?" Ethan joked before launching into a hum of the musical's overture. "Dun dun dun dun dunnnn!"

"Ethan!" Kristen slapped her cousin's shoulder. "All right, Jay. You stay safe. Maybe you can come visit us sometime! I give lessons every Wednesday at four-thirty."

“Sounds cool, sister. You stay safe too. We mortals gotta stick together.”

“Be careful!” 

The three fighters passed through the exit doors. Kristen glanced over her shoulder at Jay one more time. He seemed to be perfectly healthy, breathing and free of scars or bites. She was surprised to see a mortal of his strength surviving for this long, especially with the undead showing up in increased amounts. Hell, he technically _worked_ for one of the Icons. He probably was sworn to secrecy as to how he remained alive.

Kristen’s close observations were disturbed when Julian charged toward Jay with a maddened sprint. Jay held his hands in front of him, attempting to shield himself from his boss. But as Kristen knew, Julian knew nothing of suffering. The Usher brought his gloved hands to Jay’s neck and snapped it to the side, breaking it and killing him. Kristen cringed at the sound of snapping bone, biting down on her lip as she watched Jay fall to the floor.

Tears stung in Kristen’s eyes, but in Julian’s, and the rest of the Icons as well, Jay was only another innocent life taken for Adaru’s power. The undead had no sympathy, and they certainly didn’t care if one was suffering from things worse than fear. They killed without thought, and it was their task.

As if the mortal’s suffering couldn’t get any worse, Julian bent down to the barely alive Jay, took him in his arms, and sunk his teeth into his neck, just like the Strengoits did with their unwilling donors. The wound on Jay’s neck festered and bubbled when Julian let go, a sign that the infection was taking over him. His dark skin lit up with disgusting shades of yellow and green, and when he opened his eyes, they were a soulless, dull white.

“Kris, come on!” Ethan shouted from outside the exit doors of the theater. “We need to go see if your Dad's okay!”

Kristen held up a trembling hand and stayed frozen in her tracks, not able to believe that the young man she just met was killed and turned into a Kerezan (and through the Strengoit method, nonetheless) in the blink of an eye. The Icons truly did have the power now, slowly becoming the oligarchy that would soon take over Carey.

Julian turned his head, sensing Kristen’s presence in the lobby. His mismatched eyes of green and white lingered on her, glaring with anger, knowing that she disobeyed his lord and master even more. Julian's mere gaze made Kristen's heart race. If she didn't move in the next two seconds, she'd become his next victim, and she was certain he'd love to have her. Nearly tripping, Kristen rushed through the set of lobby doors, hiding her eyes with the crook of her arm.

Julian watched Kristen try so desperately to flee from his theater, licking the blood off his pale lips. Although he despised her for killing off more of his kind and threatening the lives of the other legions, something about Kristen’s determination and cunning oddly fascinated him. The girl had a wild, carefree spirit, and would possibly vow to die for her passion of eradicating the undead. His growing hatred and disgust of Lord Adaru reminded him of her. It was almost as if the girl knew perfectly of vengeance. Yet, she was still a barrier, trying to kill off the restless dead one by one.

And he still would have his vengeance in one way or another.


	4. Devil's Night

By the time the comrades returned to base, all the rookies and staff had returned home, scared out of their minds to even think about coming in the next day. It was only George, Hayley, and Tom in the area of the warehouse that served as the main office, eating what was left of the now-cold pizza. Tom lay on a makeshift cot, while Hayley occasionally checked his blood pressure. George watched on, wrapping a bandage around a jagged, long scar on Tom's forehead.

A familiar man also sat nearby on a stool, mumbling about something to do with the Kerezans becoming more bloodthirsty than ever. His voice was muffled by the Hannibal Lecter-like mask he wore over his nose and mouth, or what was left of them. Even though his brother was the herald of Chaos, Eddie Schmidt didn’t take on his brother’s alignment, remaining neutral. And despite Ethan spreading rumors that Eddie was just as crazy as his brother in the past, he was always a nice, down-to-earth guy to ZAP’s staff, although he had his moments where he became frustrated with his brother and what he had done to destroy Carey.

“Eddie, hey buddy!” Ethan bellowed as he, Nina, and Kristen sat down. “Long time no see!”

Eddie squinted his mismatched eyes at the grime on the comrades' faces and their soaking wet clothing. "What the hell happened to you guys?"

“Well,” Kristen began, taking a seat next to Eddie, “let’s just say that I'm a wanted fugitive in the eyes of Adaru and the Iniquitus now. See, I was placed under trial for killing too many Kerezans since that usher guy caught us." The boldness in Kristen's voice died down, becoming replaced by a soft, wistful tone. "Adaru snapped my license and rifle in half, and then he told me I’d be turned into the Icons' undead prisoner.” She tried to hold back tears. “That was my favorite rifle, the one that Wes gave me when he visited us a few years back. That damn demon broke it right in front of me to show that he’s got all the power now!”

“Are you kidding me, Kristen?" Eddie asked incredulously. "I thought you knew better! I’m not sure how to tell you this, but your freedom isn’t going to last you very long.”

Kristen looked down guiltily. "You can say that again."

"So how would Kristen be able to hide?" Nina asked. "If she can, at all."

“Adaru’s heralds travel around Carey multiple times a day,” Eddie replied, “and they’re searching every nook and cranny so they get every single soul to satisfy his hunger. If that demon doesn’t have enough souls, then he can’t live in our world long enough. But now, with all the supernatural activity rates rising, and more people disappearing than ever, Adaru’s going to be up here sooner than you think. Devil's Night is coming, guys. You need to be ready."

"Oh, and let's not forget that Lady Luck forced us to hand over Kristen's stuff," George added. "It wasn't easy at all. She was in disguise as a repair woman, but I saw right through her act. She would've had everyone here laying in cold blood if I didn't comply."

"And how's Dad doing?" Kristen asked, her voice thin with fright.

"I... I really don't know, Kristen," Hayley said, letting Tom's wrist sit limp in her hand. "He hasn't been doing too well. He's still breathing, but..." She sighed. "I'm not sure how he'll be by tomorrow."

Kristen’s eyes prickled with tears, but she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Well, we'll still do our jobs. Just because I escaped from the Order doesn't mean all of this is over. We've got to stop them somehow! Like Eddie said, Devil's Night might be coming up, and we need to be ready. It's going to take a lot of work, but I also know defeating their asses can be done."

“Even if it does mean banishing the ones who went over to the other side from immortality,” Eddie chimed in, “which, to be completely honest, I don’t give a flying fuck about.”

“But how can we stop Lord Adaru and Lady Luck?” Nina inquired.

“Both are really hard to defeat, since Fear and Fate work hand in hand,” Eddie explained. “The heralds resemble _branches_ of fear. When Fortuna recruited them, she paired them up with the branch that resembled them the most. Remember the usher, Julian Browning? He had a rather troubled past with moviegoers breaking the rules, among other things I’ve heard out of him, so that’s why he’s Vengeance. The other four of Adaru’s heralds got their titles based on what they did in their past lives. Elsa was a writer, so she’s Legend. My brother Jack… well, you should pretty much know why he’s Chaos. Paulo kills for the art of film, so he’s Sacrifice. And lastly, Albert was fascinated with what killed a person, so that’s why he’s Death.

“All of the heralds were mortal once, but turned to the afterlife once Luck gave them a choice: to either die being unknown, or to live for a purpose. They were chosen to be Adaru’s heralds for the next twenty years, and they’re expected to be his most loyal heralds yet. They damn well know what they’re doing, making sure the legions thrive.”

“So, this is all some kind of set-up plan,” Ethan realized. “Adaru wants his advisory and his legions to fight against the living, so he’s going to use the undead to his own advantage?”

“Sounds about right, even if it’s a little complex,” Eddie replied. “I’m not a textbook on Adaru’s plans though, so that’s all I can confirm.”

“But you know everything!” Hayley exclaimed.

“You can thank my brother for everything I know. But I know nothing about Adaru’s side of the plan. He works in the shadows, and he only lets the heralds see him every once in a while. He trusts them to guard his secrets, so… they’re not very open in front of me.”

Outside, a glass shattered against the closed garage door of the warehouse, followed by the sounds of a group of young Morphans cackling. Out of habit, Kristen grabbed at her shoulder as if her rifle was still slung against her, but when she realized it was gone, she froze and sighed sadly. Nina went over to Kristen and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, pulling her into a close embrace.

"They're so close to having me, Nina," Kristen whispered. "They took everything of mine and soon they'll take away everyone I love. You know how hard it is to lose something so precious to you? It feels like a chunk of your life was ripped out of you."

Nina nodded. "I've been through that almost all my life. But luckily, I've found you, and I'm staying."

"You shouldn't say 'luck'," Kristen said hesitantly. "She could be listening to us."

“Fuck her, Kris. She’s just trying to spread false pretenses onto everybody.”

"You guys should probably get out of here before trouble strikes," George told the comrades. "We all know how rambunctious those Morphans can get. And if they see you, Kristen, well... it wouldn't be good for everyone here, now would it?"

"Fuck no," Kristen replied. "But the machine guns out front, they're still screwed up! How are you going to kill those Morphans?"

"You can't really kill a Morphan as much as you can hinder them," Eddie said. "They thrive on sugar, literally. If you give them candy they'll usually leave you alone."

"Good thing we've got a steady supply of last year's Halloween candy," George replied with a laugh. "It's stale, but who cares? They go all ape shit at the crappy jokes on the back of the taffy wrapper."

"All right guys, come on," Kristen told her group quickly. "We've seen too much trauma for our own good today. The best thing we can do now is go home and—" She stopped for a yawn. "Damn, I'm tired."

“Case in point,” Nina chuckled, wrapping her arm around Kristen’s waist.

“Let’s go, you guys,” Ethan said, opening the garage-like door in the back of the training room. “And George, Eddie? Stay safe."

"Make sure Dad's okay for me, George," Hayley added. 

“Will do,” George replied. “We can’t have him dying from something as stupid as a flashlight wound.”

Kristen ushered her comrades and her sister out of the warehouse and to their hidden residence, located a few hundred feet or so away from ZAP’s base. It was once the Good Harvest Orphanage, once standing abandoned for many years until Tom hired a home-refurbishment team to renovate it before the undead became a bigger threat. Despite its interior now being homely and plentiful of supplies and entertainment, the bricked exterior had a decrepit appearance, sprawling with vines and overgrown shrubbery, easily tricking whoever saw it into believing that no one lived there.

Still attached to Nina’s arm, Kristen groggily stumbled into her home, crashing into the nearest couch in the living room almost instantly. The fighting and protesting she had done today easily exhausted her, and she was a person known for not getting a lot of asleep. She was usually awake all night, either talking with Nina or staring out the windows, worried that a threat would come to their home.

“Woah, you must be really tired, Kat,” Ethan remarked, sitting down next to Kristen. She buried her head into one of the pillows, muttering something inaudible in reply.

“Just let her sleep, Ethan,” Nina told him, undoing Kristen's ponytail for her. “She’s fought a whole mass of Kerezans and escaped from Adaru and his asshole heralds all in one night! I’d be tired too if I was her.”

"I hope I can kick some zombie butt just like Kristen someday," Hayley said, joining Nina on an adjacent couch. "Being fourteen sucks. At least I'm two years away from starting my training."

“You'll learn soon enough!” Nina said encouragingly. “Once you fight your first few zombies, you’ll get the rush just as Kristen did. It's a little scary at first, but you get used to it! For now, we should probably relax. Let’s watch a movie. I think Ethan said a while back that he wanted to watch Shaun of the Dead again.”

"I did," Ethan said. "After all, it's one of my favorites!"

Hayley went to the DVD cabinet below the television and pulled out the red DVD cover of _Shaun of the Dead_ , carefully inserting the disc into the player. As the opening previews began, Hayley referred to _The Zombie Survival Guide_ , panning her eyes over the highlighted passages she took note of.

***

The new morning’s sun peered out over the dark storm clouds, a glimmer of hope in the middle of the war. Ethan, Nina, and Hayley entered the warehouse to help George set up shop before ZAP officially opened their doors for the day. Hayley assisted Ethan with polishing crossbows, while Nina was finally practicing her shooting with the Remington shotgun with George, despite the infamous aim test that awaited her whenever Tom fully recovered.

"Damn it!" Nina scowled at her off-centered shot on the target sheet. Aim was always her weakness. She must've gone through hundreds of target sheets, only hitting the target about fifteen or so times.

“You need to do it like Kristen does it,” George suggested. “Square in the middle, with nothing to lose. Speaking of Kristen, where is she? She didn’t come down with you guys?”

“She’s still sleeping,” Ethan replied. “I don’t blame her. She was dead tired last night! No pun intended, of course.”

“And how’s Tom?” Nina asked.

“He’s doing a bit better,” George replied as he hung up a fresh new target sheet. “He’s sleeping in the medical room right now. We figured he’d be safe there, for now at least. We didn’t want to risk carrying him to the house and being seen by those Morphans.”

Ethan turned on the room's speaker system, and at once the music of Rob Zombie blared throughout the room. From then on, ZAP's staff continued preparing Training Room A, feeding the test zombies bits of hamburger meat and rolling out the weapon racks. As Hayley loaded up the test rifles with new pellet rounds, she briefly glanced over at the wall, thinking that she saw a person's shadow standing deadly still. There was something sharp and scissor-like in its hands, an interesting bladed weapon. Hayley quickly shrugged the shadow off, thinking it was just Ethan carrying in an old weapon from the inventory to fix up.

“So, how did things go with the Morphans last night?” Nina asked as she ripped off her old target sheet.

"You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?” George sat down on his favorite stool, conveniently marked with a sign that read ‘Reserved for Mr. Fixit’, as Tom usually called him. "Well, we threw some jawbreakers and saltwater taffy at them, so that got them to go away. Everything seems to be fine so far. With Halloween getting close though, Devil’s Night might be tonight … it's going to be a big night on the battlefield for you guys.” He shuddered. “But hey, maybe we'll get Eddie to get some more information from his brother. It's nice that we've got someone sort of affiliated with the heralds on our side."

“Yes, for someone who cannot have much a say in our matters.”

Startled by the unfamiliar, unexpected voice, ZAP’s staff turned their heads. Dr. Albert Caine stood at the training room’s entryway with his fellow four heralds, their weapons drawn out in front of them. Albert, a pair of surgical scissors tipped with thin spikes; Elsa, a bladed tongue depressor; and Julian, the same flashlight that caused Tom's head injury. Jack held the infamous Cane of Souls in his hand, twirling it back and forth, while Paulo proceeded to start up his beloved Bell and Howell camera.

“Shit, not you guys again!” Nina shouted, aiming the trigger in the direction of the heralds. “If this shotgun had real ammo, I’d be blasting you guys right now!”

“Kristen isn’t here, if that’s who you’re looking for,” Hayley said politely.

“Oh, we’re not just here for Kristen,” Albert replied. “We are also here to permanently shut down this business. Do you remember Julian’s intrusion last night?”

“Intrusion isn’t quite the right word, Albert,” Julian told his fellow herald. “It was more of an inspection than anything else.”

Albert nodded curtly and focused his attention back to the ZAP team members. “We want the girl. We gave you one night to think things over. She is Lord Adaru’s prisoner now, and his word is now law. Now, where is she?”

"Look, you're breaking and entering private property,” George snapped at the heralds, grabbing a dented crowbar propped up against the wall. "I suggest you all leave or I'll have you arrested.”

“Haven’t you been outside lately, _sir_?” Paulo asked George over the laughter of his fellow heralds. “Most of the mortals are too afraid to step out into the light because of us. Even law enforcement has lost all hope! Everyone turns to ZAP now.”

“You provide the weapons of rebellion,” Elsa added, “which is strictly against Lord Adaru’s orders. I bear a vital sense of discipline, and I believe the owners of this business shall need it.”

“Well, we ain’t shutting down,” George retaliated. “We strive for this business!”

"Then show it to us now!" Jack exclaimed. "You all think you're so high and mighty killing off our legions, so how's about you try and attack us? We’re stronger than everyone else you so easily kill, so you’ve got yourselves a big fucking challenge! Come on, we're waiting!"

"Ethan, get your crossbow," George said quickly, "and Nina, it's time for some real shooting practice. Go get one of the spare Remingtons out of the closet. Our two most experienced fighters aren't here right now so you're gonna have to practice on these fucks right--"

"Time's up!"

Jack pranced over to George and knocked him to the ground, placing his dirtied, gloved hands on George's shoulders so he couldn't escape. He used his Cane of Souls to smack George's face repeatedly, bruising up his face and swelling up an eye shut. But George wouldn't give up on this fight. He leapt to his feet and tackled Jack to the ground, but Jack revealed a blade hidden at the tip of his Cane of Souls. He slashed the blade against George's throat, sending a stream of blood on his clothes and onto the floor. George clutched his throat and fell on his back, cracking his head in the process.

“No!” Hayley screamed, burying her head into Nina’s waist. “Oh God, please, end this!”

“He needs some more work done if my film’s going to be successful,” Paulo said with a click of his tongue. “Jack, you’ve got to be more involved! Harder, stronger, Jack!”

Jack forced open George’s mouth with his hand and shoved the Cane of Souls deep into it, so deep that the rear of the cane touched the floor slightly. Blood soaked the cane, and it was to the point where George’s head was nothing more than a bloody, messy pulp. Hayley and Nina screamed from the corner of the room, their shrieks and sobs only making the heralds laugh in victory.

“Jack, I believe you stole that technique from me,” Julian said in dissatisfaction. “I did that a while ago on a misbehaving patron after he stuck gum below one of my lady’s seats.”

“Stop referring to that dirt bag theater of yours as a woman, Browning." Jack watched as his cane started to glow, detecting George’s soul that had become trapped within it. “You aren’t going to score a woman anytime soon.”

Ethan hurried Hayley and Nina into the medical room before they were caught. Nina's chest heaved as she slunk down to the floor and sobbed in her hands, while Hayley stood watch by her father, who lay on a cot with a blanket over his body. Her fingers trembled as she grazed her fingertips over the blanket, curious to see her father in his weakened state, but Nina pulled her back.

"What are you doing, Ethan?" Hayley asked as she then watched Ethan going around and wildly swinging open supply cabinets. "Shouldn't we be getting weapons instead of medical supplies?"

"It's good to stock up," Ethan said calmly as he shoved his findings into his hoodie pockets. "It'll be next to impossible to get our weapons and escape from the heralds so quickly, so this is all we might be able to get. But hey, it's better to have some supplies then none, right?"

"Not if they aren't deadly in the long run!" Nina exclaimed. "I don’t think first aid is going to do that much for the zombies out there!”

"Look, guys, this isn't a practice round anymore!" Ethan took on a more assertive tone, a kind of voice that he was surprised to hear coming from himself. "This is the real deal! This is what we've been preparing for since June! Hayley, I know you haven't dealt with the weapons yet, but you've studied that book so many times I know you've got it down verbatim. Eddie gave you some notes last night, so I suggest you use that clever little mind of yours to save yourself."

"Bb-but I can't go out there!" Hayley said with a quiver. "I don't know how to do anything! I want Kristen!"

"Ww-what's going on, guys?" Tom leapt up from his cot and proceeded to let out a loud, hacking cough as he pushed off the blanket and sat up on the table. Hayley and Nina panicked and shushed him, helping him lay back down before the heralds would catch wind of his presence.

"We’ve got surprise visitors," Ethan said, staring out the windows on the double doors. Jack was writing something in George's blood on the wall, while Albert used his shears to carve into George's chest and retrieve his heart. Ethan winced, biting on his lip. "The heralds found us."

"The heralds _what_?"

"They're here, Dad," Hayley said shakily. "The heralds are here and they killed George!"

"Oh no, not Georgie!" Tom ran a hand through his thinning hair. "God, fuck, they got Georgie... my partner in crime! I can't... fucking..." He looked up when he realized the three were still listening, waiting for an answer. The question that then came out of Tom's mouth was one he hadn't heard himself ask in years. "What are we gonna do, guys?"

"We're gonna escape," Ethan said firmly. "We've got no time to get weapons unless we want to be more claimed souls for Adaru. We're gonna run and keep on running until we find somewhere safe, like Eddie's place."

"But what about Kristen?” Nina asked.

Ethan let out an anguished sigh. "At this rate, she's not going to make it.” Nina let out a horrified cry. “There won't be a way for us to go back to the house and get her without someone catching us. She'll have to fight her way out of this on her own, I guess. But I know exactly who Kristen is. She'll find us."

Tom closed his eyes. "Then that's what you guys will have to do. I'm proud of your decision making, Ethan. You've come a long way since I took you in."

"I know, Tom," Ethan simply replied. "I know."

"I mean, I'd try to go get her from the house, but..." Tom coughed again. "I can't in this state. I probably can’t walk for another day or two.”

"So what are you going to do, Dad?" Hayley asked.

Tom took his daughter's hand in his. "Hayley, kiddo, you know I'm gonna be just fine. Just remember your good old Dad for attempting to kick the asses of all the undead that's entered his path. I may or may not die at the heralds' hands, but rest assured I tried to protect my daughter and my most cherished students. Remember my motto. We'd die for this business, knowing we've helped those who want to fight. And I'm going to die in the name of what I've taught everyone."

Hayley gave Tom a tight, tearful hug. Her father really was a true hero, slaying the undead and putting the needs of others before his own. Even if he was to die today, he would die in vain while protecting the ones he loved. Finally, he could be with Mom up in heaven, free from the undead curse that ravaged the souls of many.

"Listen," Tom said softly. "I'm gonna count to three, and once I say three, you guys are gonna bolt the hell out of here. Do not stop for _anything_. Keep on running until you reach Eddie's place, you hear? No abandoned buildings, and if you have to hide in an alleyway, make sure it's far and not populated. Do you understand?"

The emotional farewells were quickly interrupted as Albert and the heralds passed through the swinging double doors of the medical room, their weapons in hand. Albert's face lit up in glee at the nearly dead Tom laying on the table, like he was another body in line for a living autopsy. He slid his fingertips against the flat surface of his blades, waiting for the moment when he'd be able to strike.

"So, children, will you try to fight us, or will you accept your deaths?"

"Neither," Ethan hissed. He gestured at the girls to gather up behind him. "You'll have to come and get us first!"

"And what about your leader?" Julian asked flatly.

"My Dad's... he's..." Hayley stumbled on her words, trying to sound confident. "He's gonna die in the name of his family."

Tom swallowed down his proud, mournful tears. The end may be near for him, but at least he would die knowing he saved the kids he cared for the most.

"Such a beautiful sacrifice," Paulo said with a twisted grin, turning the crank on his camera. "It will be a spectacular scene for my next feature."

Tom began whispering his countdown. "One... two..."

Hayley grabbed onto Nina's hand. "Nina, I'm scared."

"Don't be," Nina replied. "Don't let them take advantage of your fear."

Tom drew out his last, staggering breath as the heralds began to close in on him.

" _Three._ "

***

Kristen woke up and stretched out her aching legs, slowly remembering that she slept on the couch instead of her own bed. Last night's battle was intense, especially since it was topped off with a trial from the bad demon himself, Lord Adaru, and two of the members of the Iniquitus' High Council. Although she managed to escape her sentencing, she was a fugitive of the undead law now, her life ultimately at stake. But then again, death was always inevitable. She wasn't lying when she tried to defend herself. Adaru said things she already knew, even if she was rather frightened of hearing them. Eventually, she'd be undead, but the time for that wasn't now.

"Ethan?" Kristen shouted, rising from the couch. "Nina, Hayley? Where are you guys?"

The three were nowhere in sight, leaving the menu of the _Shaun of the Dead_ DVD frozen on the screen. In recent times, Kristen wasn't used to being home alone. The silence unnerved her to no end, and what if one of the undead managed to find her house and barge in uninvited?

"Oh, we're playing Hide and Seek now, huh? I guess I'm it. Nina, I know you're hiding in my closet again!"

Kristen rushed upstairs to her room and swung her closet doors open, but Nina was nowhere to be found. Shrugging, Kristen changed out of her damp clothes and into an oversized _Night of the Living Dead_ tee shirt and grey leggings. She slipped on her leather boots, tied her hair back, and observed the morning scene outside. It looked like a perfectly normal morning... until Kristen saw five Baccanoid warriors guarding the entrance to the warehouse, their swords at their hips.

"Oh, fuck!" Kristen stumbled out of her bedroom, her pulse racing. Adaru had kept true to his word. She rushed to the rooms of her friends and family, but found them all empty. "Guys, there are Baccanoids outside and we have to get them out, right now!"

But there was still no response.

 _Her loved ones were gone_ _._

Kristen rushed downstairs and out of the house, running all the way through the grassy field to the back of the warehouse. She jerked the garage door open until pain surged through her shoulders, mentally forcing her body to stop quivering so much. Her family and friends may have been tortured or killed for all she knew, and of course, the heralds had to come in when she was completely oblivious.

Kristen wandered into Training Room A, noticing that the Rob Zombie music playing on the speaker system skipped and created an eerie, scratchy noise. A coppery scent filled the air with a sickly aroma, and as Kristen turned her head to squint at where a training zombie should've been chained up, she lost her footing and fell over a substance that never, ever met the floors of the Zombie Awareness Program. It was cold and sticky and stained Kristen's hands red.

"Blood?" Kristen asked herself in disbelief, lifting a hand up to her eyes. "Did one of the zombies have a nasty accident today or something?”

From the side of her eye, Katharine then saw the protesting messages written on the steel walls, all in the dripping, dark blood that formed small puddles on the floor underneath. ‘DOWN WITH ZAP’, read one. ‘ZAP IS DESTROYING OUR UNDEAD’ read another. And if it couldn’t get any worse, all the training equipment was destroyed and the glass gun cases were broken into, the guns now stolen, and the racks that once hosted crossbows and rifles empty. Even the training zombies were gone.

Kristen looked around the room nervously, her breath stuck in her throat. She then noticed two corpses lying together on the floor, their bodies stained with dried up blood. Kristen approached the corpses, noticing they were both men dressed similarly in horror movie tee-shirts and jeans. Kristen's heart fell into her chest and her whole body went cold. She turned the slender corpse over and noticed its head was entirely beaten into a bloody, messy pulp. Kristen's eyes went wide and became glassy with tears.

Somehow, during her slumber, George Savini had been killed.

"George!" Kristen scooped up George and cradled him in her arms. "Oh, God, George, no! Where's—“

Kristen glanced over at the other corpse, the corpse of her very own father. His chest slowly rose and fell with his last breaths, and his face and body were riddled with deep, bloody cuts. Just when Kristen thought her father would survive, she realized his thread of life would be cut short very soon.

"Dad..." Katharine sobbed, crawling over to her father. "Dad, can you hear me?"

"Kristen..." Tom wheezed. "Fear's heralds broken in... Ethan and Nina and Hayley... they escaped... and the Morphans stole... everything."

“What did they do to you? How have they…”

Kristen flipped Tom over on his side. The back of his gray _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ tee-shirt had turned red from all the blood seeping into it. When Kristen pulled up his shirt a bit more, she discovered that one of the heralds attempted to take his spine out, a huge, gaping wound carved deep into his back.

“They used their own weapons… especially the usher and the old guy,” Tom croaked. “The director… he filmed it all…”

Kristen sharply turned her head to look upon the heralds standing behind her. Her eyes burned in rage, an emotion she would've never thought to feel unless her loved ones were harmed. "Where are my comrades, bastards?" The heralds didn't bother to reply, instead gazing down at Kristen with creepy grins. " _WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?_ "

“I can assure you that your comrades and your sister are in fine health,” Albert answered, gliding toward Kristen and the corpses. “However, in your means, you are surely not. Remember how Julian told you that your operations would be shut down? Well, your time has come.” 

Kristen gave an angry glare in Albert's direction before turning back to her father, watching tearfully as his eyes began to slowly close. “I’m not going to give up, Dad! I’m going to find Nina and Hayley and Ethan, and we’re going to keep the business open. I’ll—“

Jack grabbed Kristen from behind, holding onto her waist. Wriggling out of the clown's grasp was of no use, as his mangled fingernails dug into her shoulders. Kristen remained pressed to Jack like a broken puppet, her strings cut off as she shook her legs wildly, trying to break free.

"I killed your Dad and his pal, Kristen," Jack whispered menacingly. He pulled on Kristen's ponytail and made sure his painted lips were right by her ear. "I beat them into a great bloody pulp, and now their souls are ours!"

"Fuck you!" Kristen screamed. "You're gonna fucking—“

Jack pressed his Cane of Souls against Kristen's throat, preventing her from speaking out. "Shut your _fucking_ mouth, kid! Face it, ZAP's dead, and you're ours! Everything you’ve done is useless now!"

Kristen slammed her fists onto Jack's arms and gave out a hoarse cry as the heralds exited the warehouse, her home becoming more and more out of view. Paulo slammed the metal door of the warehouse shut, sealing George and Tom inside their tomb, the very business they created together. It reminded Kristen of something they frequently used to say -- "We'd die for this business, knowing we've helped out those who want to fight!"

But they died in vain, dying because their power had been usurped by Fear’s urchins. 

The Baccanoid warriors lowered their heads in respect to the heralds as they passed by, entering the newly undead ridden streets of Carey. Kristen gasped in horror at the Legions of Horror freely roaming the streets; some even made their way into homes and buildings and pulled out new, unwilling recruits, biting into the flesh of their necks and arms. Fleeing mortals were running into the streets, finding somewhere to hide, only to collide with the undead. The once bright morning sky was now dark and gray with smoke clouds, making it seem as if Carey had become an area of eternal night, a perfect place for the undead to thrive.

"Real special treat, huh, Romero?" Jack asked sarcastically as he watched Kristen's face freeze in terror. A group of animal-masked Morphans munching on chocolate coins had noticed Kristen in Jack's grasp and started to screech in laughter, pointing at the fallen hero. "If you hadn't pissed off Lord Adaru so much, everyone would still be in hiding! But now, they're free to walk around because ZAP is dead! They're safe now!"

The heralds chuckled at Jack's clever realization, and soon the legions surrounding them took notice. They strolled toward Kristen, chanting, "ZAP is dead! ZAP is dead!" with excited, wild fervor. Kristen screamed and cried through Jack's hand, trying to kick her way out of the clown's grasp again, but her struggle was useless. Carey had reached the extreme level of danger when it came to the dead overpowering the living, and the end had arrived.

But this was only the beginning.

***

**An hour later**

In a darkened alleyway tucked in the western outskirts of Carey, Ethan, Nina, and Hayley were huddled together, shielding each other from the impending storm. It had taken them an hour from the time they left ZAP's warehouse to find this alleyway right beside the Universal Palace Theater, dodging the Legions of Horror as they freely roamed the streets. Hayley watched in terror as they broke into buildings and dragged people out, biting into their flesh to make them one of their own. She hadn't known that the Legions had the tendency to become extremely violent when provoked, never seeing the attacks in person. She didn't even know if George, Dad, or even Kristen became one with the Legions as well. She prayed that they were at least safe, but an inkling of doubt inside her suggested otherwise.

"We should've gone back for her!" Nina cried, tears streaming down her face. "Kristen needed my help! She.." She hiccuped on her sobs. "She needed me. We vowed we'd survive through this together, and now she's... she's gone!"

"But it would've been too dangerous to go and get her, Nina," Ethan said with an anguished sigh. "We couldn't go and get Kristen unless we wanted to get caught by those bastards! They wanted her, so it would've been stupid to just lead her out in plain sight of everybody!"

"And now the heralds are going to kill her because we didn't do anything!" Nina sobbed. "She needed us, Ethan! You don't understand at all!"

“Guys, stop fighting!” Hayley shouted, fighting back her tears. “We should all be fortunate that we managed to escape! And for you guys, it’s a second time, the second time in the past day!”

“She’s right,” Ethan said sardonically. “We should focus on the good luck rather than the bad. That’s all we need right now, some nice, good luck… luck that doesn’t even exist in this damn world anymore!”

“But there’s more bad than good.” Hayley sniffled, sinking her head into her knees.

The rhythmic clicking of heels on gravel startled the trio from their unbroken gaze on the pouring rain. Their heads shot up as a woman emerged from the shadows, her dark auburn hair tied up in a ponytail and a certain Glock pistol situated in the holster at her waist.

"What are you three doing here?" The woman stayed underneath a flickering street lamp, making sure she stood in the sparse amount of light. "You know Carey isn't safe anymore, right? You should be taking cover!”

“We’re just… uh… relaxing,” Ethan answered. “We’re waiting for our ride to get here.” It was of course a lie, but the best he could come up with.

“Well, a darkened alleyway isn’t the right place for relaxing,” the woman said in disdain. The intensity in the woman’s green eyes seemed to grow as she spoke. “I’ve got a shelter for those who need to hide from the undead a few blocks near here. ZAP’s not answering our calls, so we’re the next best place.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Seriously, we have someone who’s picking us up in a few minutes.”

“Who?” The woman’s voice became sharp. “Is it your little friend, Kristen?”

“She’s gone,” Hayley said sadly. “We had to leave without her. She’s probably looking for us now.”

“She _is_ gone, but she isn’t looking for you.” The woman untied her ponytail and let her auburn locks of hair free. Her eyes changed from a normal shade of green to a vivid shade of blue, a shade so bright it appeared white to the mortal eye.

“Lady Luck!” Hayley gasped. “I knew you’d find us here! Tell us where Kristen is. We’re pretty sure you know something!”

“I’m not telling you where Kristen is,” Luck replied coyly, “but I can tell you that she’s in the safe hands of my acquaintances.”

“You mean safe hands as in those of the heralds!” Nina said angrily. “The heralds have her!”

Luck chuckled. “If you want to find Kristen, then I suggest coming with me. Or, you could stay here and find her yourselves. But I will warn you, your luck will start to run out ]if you decide to go any further.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Ethan whispered to Hayley. “She’s just saying all of this to distract us.”

“But she has connections with Adaru and the heralds!” Hayley replied. “She’s the second most powerful behind him, so she knows everything! We should listen to her!”

“I know, Hayley, but it’s not the safest situation.”

Nina took a step toward Luck. “We’ll find Kristen on our own, thank you very much.”

Luck raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Ethan replied. “We don’t need any interference from you. Besides, Kristen can be found just as easily without your help, anyway.”

Luck sighed in dissatisfaction. "Suit yourselves. But if you ever need me, you know where to find me." She sauntered back into the dark nooks and crannies of the alleyway, releasing a queen-of-hearts playing card from her hand.

“We don’t need her.” As the card fluttered in the night breeze, Nina caught the card in her hand, briefly examining it. She scoffed in disgust and ripped up the card into several pieces, dropping them into a puddle at her feet. “And we don't need another reminder that luck's not in our favor. If anything, she's the reason why we're stuck here now."

Hayley stared up at the dark sky, her eyes wandering over to the thickened woods behind all the abandoned buildings and houses. High atop a hill was a Victorian manor that bore a similarity to The Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, or the many fancy houses Hayley remembered seeing when she lived in New Orleans. Kristen once told her of a haunted manor where the undead held parties and danced well into dawn. Perhaps Kristen had been taken there, forced to mingle with the undead gentry as she was doomed to become one of them?

"I just hope they don't hurt her. I hope she's safe."


	5. No Man's Land

RUN was once a murderer's palace, where the innocent were subject to whatever torturous, ghastly fantasies they were unwillingly thrust into, all in exchange for a simple credit card number. Surprisingly, the business skyrocketed back when it had ventures in San Francisco and Orlando, proving to be quite popular with those who kept their sadistic urges hidden. But in Carey, the ghost town made up of the dead with their insatiable appetites, the maze and torture devices stood unused. Jack said business would boom here in the town where the undead thrived, so where were the sickos and the lunatics who craved for murder?

Eddie couldn't help but feel bitter toward the Order. He always held a grudge against his older brother; he looked out for himself and only himself, not even his girlfriend Chance. He didn't even bother to check in on the only remaining family member he had left, the typical showman and loyal herald he was. Jack initially gave funding to RUN, and even participated in a few of the murders, but after he realized his dreams of a Carnival of Carnage could come to fruition, he abandoned the business, leaving Eddie to sell their assets and auction off anything that wouldn’t be deemed suspicious by the unknowing. This was murder-for-hire, after all.

One day, while cleaning some of the equipment outside, Eddie watched a trio of fighters as they fought a pack of Cerebin creatures across the street from his warehouse. The heralds called them ‘the rebels’, as they were a part of an organization made to exterminate the undead. He focused on a young woman with a rifle as she shot right through the chest of a little green creature with wings with just one shot. When its fresh corpse fell to the ground, she decided to have a little more fun with it by stomping on its head, its brains oozing out. Eddie was so amused by the way the young woman relentlessly let the creature suffer and die, showing it no remorse at all. She looked to be a clever fighter, someone who knew the ways of the undead ridden streets. Eddie liked a good, determined killer, good guy or not.

Eddie later found out that the woman was Kristen Romero, the twenty-three year old daughter of a faded zombie hunter from New Orleans. She wasn't killing the Cerebins because she was a sadistic individual, much like he was. She was against the Order herself, slowly killing off the Legions of Horror so mortality could live in peace.

He realized soon after that the Zombie Awareness Program may have been the answer to his problems. He still had an urge to kill, but perhaps it was safer to kill the undead rather than innocent people constantly being bothered by Jack and his acquaintances. He wasn't seeking for redemption, but inspiration. He knew that somehow, helping ZAP in their goal to get the heralds to stop killing people for a stupid fear demon would have its benefits in the long run.

Eddie decided to help the Romeros protect themselves and their business by acting not as an assassin, but as a messenger of sorts. Being the younger brother of the infamous Jack the Clown did have its perks, and rubbing shoulders with the heralds every once in a while was one of them. He even befriended Julian, the usher who didn't speak much at meetings. Conversations usually consisted of death, collecting souls, and how to get rid of the rebels. Eddie didn't pay much attention to the first two, but whenever the Zombie Awareness Program was brought up, he'd listen closely, and even more so whenever Kristen's name was mentioned.

"The rebel girl will be ours come tomorrow night," Dr. Caine said a meeting about Devil's Night last night, right after Eddie had left ZAP. "She cannot hide from us forever, and neither can her assistants. It is time for us to start using these rebels as our pawns toward Adaru's reign."

"And how will we act upon those plans?" Elsa, the herald of Legend inquired. Eddie thought she wasn't so bad, either. She was merely a troubled old lady looking for revenge in her last living days, and damn was she good at it. Whenever a pair of knitting needles were nearby, Eddie knew to stay far, far away from her, unless he wanted an eye plucked out.

"We will need to get rid of the founders first," Dr. Caine replied. He referred to a leather-bound book next to him, a record of all of Carey's civilians, and turned to a specific page marked with a red, wax stamp. "Tom Romero and George Savini. We need to remove the ones closest to Kristen so her suffering is stronger. Then, she will not have much of a purpose to kill the Legions."

Dr. Caine was always a man true to his word. Now, Tom and George were good as dead, and Kristen was gone, being held hostage by the heralds to serve her doomed sentence. That was the heralds’ plan for her, and there was no denying it would eventually happen as planned. There was no way at all that the ZAP founders could've defended themselves against the heralds without dying first; the heralds always had the first act, before the mortals could even make the slightest move. Eddie tried convincing the heralds that trying to stop ZAP wasn't worth it and they could be focusing more on finding more souls, but it was too late. The citizens of Carey no longer had any help or protection to turn to, as the supernatural activities broke into something even worse than ever before.

 _Ding._ The bell that normally warned of new victims chirped softly as someone with slow, steady footsteps walked inside the abandoned warehouse.

 _That’s strange,_ Eddie thought. _I thought business was done for._

“Edgar,” a sophisticated sounding man hiding in the shadows said. “It’s so strange to see your business still open after all these years of declining attendance.”

“I’m not open,” Eddie answered. “But I’ve still got the stuff here in case anyone still wants to play. You never know, there could still be some sick people out there.”

“You mean the mortals that are not accounted for.” Speak of the Devil. Dr. Albert Caine had arrived, parting from the shadows to deliver yet another pitch for him to join the Legions. Maschorian, specifically. “You happen to be one of those souls, Edgar. It's quite strange for the brother of Chaos to still be alive, is it not?”

The task of killing mortals never left Albert’s mind, even when in casual conversation with someone. The only real reason why the good doctor wanted him to join the Maschorian legion was so he could reconcile with Jack, and even that was a lame excuse. Despite being retired from killing, Eddie could still think like a killer. Killers wanted only their best interests, not to make it a family effort. Why would he want to join a group that consisted of mostly escaped convicts and bikers looking for an extra thrill in death?

“I’m not trying to go my brother’s route of business,” Eddie replied hesitantly, turning his back to the doctor as he began to fiddle with some loose gears on his worktable. “I don’t need fame and immortality just because I’m friends with some of the world’s most well-known killers and like to spread chaos everywhere I go.” He paused as he added, "Though I guess being friends with Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger is something I'd be proud of."

“Edgar, you don’t understand. The legions are starting to die out, and it’s all because of the rebels. The Cerebins are close to becoming extinct and the Strengoits are becoming bloodless. The Morphans’ tricks are becoming stale and the Maschorians are becoming weaker. If you do not help us now, then our master shall be furious.”

Eddie slammed his hand on the worktable in frustration. “I don’t support Lord Adaru or his Legions, and I definitely don’t support my brother after what he’s done to my business! If you want me to join the Legions just so some demon gets power, you’re going to have to give me a good, damn reason other than that they’re dying!”

"You are starting to waste my time, boy." Albert was starting to get furious, a far cry from his usual smooth demeanor. "I have come here to personally invite you to join the Maschorians. We need the additional help, Edgar. Not just for Adaru, but for our own purposes as well. The dead have thrived in Carey for several years, and it is time to show the mortals that fear will soon rule the world."

"Yeah, tough shit, buddy. The Maschorians are mostly low-tier compared to the Strengoits and the Baccanoids. It's better off if I stick with the Zombie Awareness Program and what they're trying to do."

“So you _support_ the rebels?” Albert raised an amused eyebrow. “You could be so much more powerful than the rebels, Edgar. The Maschorians are known for handling chainsaws quite well, and you’re skilled at using a chainsaw to murder your victims. If you join the ranks of the Maschorians, then they can easily rise back to power. Think about it.”

Eddie knew that Albert was trying to play mind games with him. Baccanoids were skilled with those. Eddie knew deep down that he didn’t want to join the Maschorians, for several reasons. Lord Adaru would receive his soul if he died, giving the demon more power. He’d be going against the very thing that Kristen and her friends were fighting for, freedom for mortals and banishment of the supernatural. He didn’t want to let them down. He had helped them, giving them all the information he could forge. In his mind, he considered himself a rebel, just like them.

“Edgar." Albert's voice went soft. “I suppose you are right about the rebels. Maybe we’ve underestimated them. All they need is… a little guidance in these… dark times. Perhaps Fortuna could reach out to them somehow.”

Albert's sudden change in character irked Eddie, but he quickly realized it was only a front.

"They wouldn't listen to anything Carrot Top would have to say. She's a manipulative one, that Fortuna. She ain't no guidance counselor, that's for sure."

"But what about you? They’d listen to a voice associated with the rebellion. You've been stuck in this old warehouse since the sixteenth cycle, dallying with the fragments of your past. You were so successful bringing in foolish mortal lives to these traps of your creation, Edgar! You could've been the herald of trickery!"

"Don't bring that up," Eddie said coldly. "You can go thank Jack for fucking up any chances of success I could’ve had. Redemption’s a powerful thing, Albert. You should learn how to use it."

"Or how about personally thanking your brother for trying to steer you in the right direction? He's been waiting for you to join him, Edgar. We've been waiting far too long for your soul to join our ranks in the Order."

"I said I don't give a fuck about the Order, old man! It can go die in hell!"

Eddie opened his mouth to say another word, but before he could even speak, Albert opened his bladed shears and slowly clenched them around Eddie's throat, the sharp tips piercing the skin of his neck.

"And so can you."

***

After a few hours of sleep and discussion in their alleyway, Ethan, Nina, and Hayley were back on their feet, searching for shelter and maybe even some food. They were traveling into the southern outskirts of Carey now, where Eddie’s warehouse was located. That was their goal destination - Eddie could easily help them and give them shelter. Other than Kristen, George, or Tom, the trio didn’t have any allies to turn to, so Eddie was their last hope.

“Damn, I’m starving,” Nina remarked after passing Milly’s, a closed down diner. It was where she and Kristen had their first date. She remembered it like it was yesterday; the Elvis Presley music playing in the jukebox, the scent of grilled hamburgers, the slight taste of chocolate malt lingering on Kristen's lips. Sadly, the owners had disappeared a week or two after, presumably eaten by Kerezans.

“If there was any place open, I’d treat,” Ethan replied, sadly glancing over at the diner. “But since half of Carey’s population’s shut in or dead, there’s no food anywhere. I’d say the Universal Palace Theater’s the only place with decent food right now, but that’s way back. And plus, that usher is there. He wouldn’t even let us in since we’re the rebels.”

"Oh yeah, Jay..." Nina remembered. She wondered how the concessions boy was doing. Was he still suffering at the hands of the usher?

“Hiya!” A young boy wearing a faded rabbit mask skipped toward the trio, holding a Halloween bucket in the shape of a pumpkin. “Do you guys want some candy? I heard you were hungry."

“Oh, do we,” Hayley replied, reaching her hand for a lollipop she saw in the bucket.

“Hayley!” Nina chided, pushing Hayley’s hand away. “You know better. This is a Morphan! He’s trying to offer you poisoned candy!”

“But it’s so tempting,” Hayley moaned in hunger.

Nina looked up at the Morphan boy in disgust. “No thanks. We don’t want any of your candy. Now kindly fuck off.”

"Damn, Nina, that was great!" Ethan broke out into a hysterical fit of laughter as the boy ran away, crying behind his mask. "How long have you been scaring kids like that again?"

"Since the day I realized I like girls," Nina said proudly.

As the three continued their travels, they couldn’t stop thinking about Kristen. Did she manage to get out alive? Did she fend for herself like she did in the cavern? Or did the heralds kill her and turn her undead, just as they said they would? Whichever way Kristen’s dilemma furthered on, they knew for sure she fought her way through somehow.

Nina was especially worried about Kristen. She hated to see her sad, especially broken that her passion was crumbling at the feet of her enemies. Kristen lived primarily for fighting the dead, wanting the mortals to live in freedom and justice. Not once did the fear or idea of the heralds seizing all her opportunities reach out to her; she thought she was doing the right thing. And now, look where they were, separated and probably worlds apart.

"I think we're here," Ethan announced as a circular, yellow sign came into view. Despite the sign's blinking, colorful lights, there was no mention of what lurked in the abandoned warehouse, not even an address. Beyond the entrance of barbed wire, there was only one word, bold and bloody red: RUN. 

“Ethan, are you sure about this place?” Hayley asked uneasily. “It kind of looks like Jigsaw’s lair.”

“Hayley, Eddie’s nothing like Jigsaw,” Ethan replied with a slight, nervous laugh as he led the girls through the entrance. The scent of iron and copper and old, rotten wood hit his nostrils, further adding on to his uneasiness. “Sure, he’s supposedly a retired serial killer, but remember, he’s our—“

Ethan cut himself short as he opened the door, revealing the grim paradise in front of them. The warehouse was decked out with things that Jigsaw would probably use in his elaborate traps, such as giant saw blades and oddly enough, a human-sized blender. A huge labyrinth of barbed wire lay in the center of the warehouse, while decapitated mannequins hung on chains attached to the ceiling. Power tools and chains were scattered on various worktables, rusty and blood-stained, and most importantly, a fading corpse lay on the floor, his chest and throat graced with bloody, gaping holes.

“Eddie!” Nina cried in shock upon noticing the dying man’s trademark biter mask, rushing to his side. She recoiled back upon noticing how deep the puncture wounds in his neck were. “Who did this to you?”

“That… bastard, Dr. Caine,” Eddie managed to heave out. “He… wanted me to join… the Maschorians.”

“And you couldn’t stop him?” Hayley asked sadly.

Eddie tried to nod, but his head fell back onto the hard, concrete floor. “That damn fool. He was so… involved in his soul researching that he decided… to test it out on me.” Blood streamed out of the mask’s slits as he coughed. “Well, fuck my soul, I guess. It’s Adaru’s now.”

"Eddie, we can't let that happen!" Tears prickled in Hayley's eyes, fogging up her glasses. "It'll only show Adaru how weak the rebellion's becoming!"

"There's... there's really nothing that can be done, kid. I'm dying, it's all accounted for. But if you guys do see that demon, tell him I'm waiting for his soul in Hell."

And with his last words said, Eddie Schmidt's life slipped out of his grasp.

Hayley shed tears while Nina stared numbly at Eddie's fresh corpse, thinking to herself,  _How could Eddie die in peace without his soul being damned?_

Ethan already had an answer, the quick thinker he was. “We might have to dismember him.”

“Or maybe burn his body,” Nina added.

“ _Dismember_ him?” Hayley asked incredulously. “That’s too much, Ethan!”

“It’s the only way we can make sure Adaru doesn’t get Eddie’s soul, Hayley,” Ethan informed her. “It’s sadistic, I know, but it’s the only probable way.”

“Wait, I remember something,” Nina then said. “I remember watching _Dracula_ with Kristen once. There was this girl who got turned into a vampire. She was alive, but her soul was damned, so she didn’t rest in peace. But… once they cut her head off, she was a goner. She couldn’t be resurrected, or anything. She could be in peace, and it gave Dracula less power.”

“So, you’re saying we should decapitate Eddie, then?” Ethan asked.

“It might do something,” Nina affirmed. “Because I don’t think there would be any headless legion members. Well, maybe except for the Headless Horseman, but he's in New England. And besides, you need your head to think, see, and all that stuff.”

“That’s true,” Ethan agreed, “and I think that might be our answer. Nina, hand me that chainsaw on the table over there.”

Nina approached the table of rusty, old weapons and carefully lifted up Eddie's old chainsaw, her hands trembling at the dirt and grime staining her hands. She then placed the chainsaw into Ethan's hands, and as he positioned the weapon, he pulled the string and revved it up. The buzzing of the saw would be music to Eddie's ears, a funeral hymn for the past he once lived.

"Eddie, old friend," Ethan began, "if this is going to help you be free from the Order, then this is what I have to do. Your soul's too good to join the ranks of the undead! You've gone from bad to good, and that's hard to do in today's society. You've helped us out so much, Eddie. May you rest in peace."

"Rest in peace," Hayley and Nina said mournfully.

And with that, Ethan rested the tip of the chainsaw blade to Eddie's neck and slid it deeply into the slowly decaying flesh. Eddie’s blood squirted all over Ethan and the girls in copious amounts like the tears he would've shed, knowing that in the afterlife, he'd be grateful to walk through the pearly gates of heaven. The comrades couldn't help but tear up a little. Eddie was finally receiving his true redemption through death. Through the veil, his soul would be free.

When Ethan was done buzzing off Eddie’s head, he raised it up high to show the girls, his hands soaked with blood. A few meaty chunks hung from below, where Eddie’s head would’ve attached with the rest of his body.

“What are we going to do with his head?” Hayley asked nervously, wincing slightly at the gore. “We aren’t going to leave it here, are we?”

“Of course not,” Ethan answered. “If we leave the head here, the heralds might find it and try to reattach it. That would destroy the purpose of why I even decapitated him. His head is ours now.” He then went to the table to pick up some chain, which he began to wrap around Eddie’s neck.

Nina hovered over to Ethan's side and watched him work with curiosity. She'd always been touched at the admiration Ethan developed for people, especially those that meant a lot to him. Eddie was always someone that Ethan was close to, especially on nights when Tom cooked barbecue and all of them just stared into the starry night skies. Nina wasn't sure why Ethan would go for a burly, gruff guy with a tortured past, but something seemed to click. Ethan had always mentioned how he despised his father, but he was hesitant to go into detail. Perhaps Ethan saw Eddie as the father he never had, despite his troubled soul?

"You know, your cousin would be proud of you right now," Nina told him. "Kristen would probably tell you she'd never even think of freeing Eddie's soul by slicing his head off. It was a clever move, Ethan... a move that saved us all."

"I know she would." Ethan linked the chain through a loop on his belt. He blinked furiously, shoving his guilt to the back of his mind. He couldn't develop feelings for Kristen now, especially after all she's done for him. "I know she would."


	6. Lip Gloss and Black

Kristen jolted up from her bed, her breath stuck in her throat. She dripped with a cold sweat as she quickly scanned the room, trying to catch any monsters that lurked in the dark. Sometimes, despite being a zombie hunter, the monsters frightened her. It wasn't everyday when you couldn't even go take a walk outside without running into a stray zombie, and even more so when the threat of being murdered by five people who thought they had the powers of a god loomed over you. Thankfully, she came up with nothing. There was no creepy usher or clown hiding in her closet, as she sometimes dreamed of.

 _I must've overslept again,_ Kristen thought as she got up from her bed. The wooden floor beneath her feet creaked as her hand wandered around on the wall, trying to find the light switch. All her hand found was a cold, metal doorknob, and weirdly enough, a warm, soft hand wrapped around her wrist.

And then, it hit her.

Kristen's heart fell to her chest when she realized no, she wasn't back at home in her bed with the faded blue sheets and her collection of _Monsters Inc._ Happy Meal toys on her nightstand, or even waking up on the floor of Training Room A. The heralds had kidnapped her, taken her away from home, and brought her to their headquarters, wherever and whatever the hell this place was. And in the middle of it all, they had murdered her father and George, forcibly closing the Zombie Awareness Program.

Dad and George were _dead,_ and she was next in line.

“Ooh, she’s so pretty!” a young girl beside Kristen, maybe the one whose hand was on her wrist whispered. “Alice, look! She’s got beautiful brown hair. And it’s so shiny!”

“She won’t be that way for long, sis,” Alice replied. “She’s scheduled to attend her transformation ceremony tonight.”

Kristen’s heart raced. _Transformation ceremony?_

“Where… where am I?” Kristen asked the voices, trying to jerk her wrist out of the girl’s grasp. She wouldn’t budge. “Who are you?”

The girls brought the candelabras in their hands up to their faces, revealing impish yet pure faces illuminated by candlelight. One girl – she couldn’t be any older than thirteen – was practically innocence personified, with her wispy blonde hair and watery blue eyes, while the eldest – maybe a year or two older, Kristen guessed – had seen tougher times, as made evident by her choppy brown hair and piercing amber eyes.

“Holy shit, Morphans!” Kristen shouted. “You aren’t the ones that were trying to break into base earlier, were you? Oh fuck, if I had my Marlin I’d—“

“Oh, heavens no!” the blonde servant exclaimed as she and Alice set down their candelabras. “We would’ve never tried to bring harm upon you and your family, Kristen.”

“We would’ve never thought of it in the first place,” Alice added. “Anya and I have been stuck in this manor for the past three cycles. We’ve never been allowed to leave.”

“Manor?” Kristen asked. The younger maid’s grip on her wrist had significantly loosened.

“The Caine manor,” Alice clarified, “the home of Dr. Caine, the herald of death. He told us you’d be living here until Lord Adaru figures out what he’s going to do with you.”

“Look," Kristen said, raising her voice in anger, "you two better tell me what’s going on right now or I’ll—“

"Shh!" Anya covered Kristen's mouth with her hand as her blue eyes looking around the room. “We can’t have any protesting during your last few hours as a mortal! Now, we need get you prepared for your ceremony. The heralds are very excited to see you tonight, Kristen. You’re their guest of honor!”

“Um… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kristen said, her voice muffled.

“You’re becoming one of the undead tonight!” Anya replied a bit too cheerily. “After your trial, Lord Adaru asked his heralds which legion you would be suited for the most. They knew you as a passionate individual, satisfied by blood lust for... well, killing the undead."

“Strengoit…” Kristen groaned, recalling the characteristics that made up one of the vampire legion. “They’re going to make me into a vampire?”

“Specifically, the herald of sacrifice will be the one to turn you tonight,” Alice informed her.

“Doesn’t he call himself ‘The Director’ or some pretentious name like that?”

“Yes. He’s a Strengoit, a dhampir – half human, half vampire. Nobody really knows how he’s retained part of his humanity, though. You’re lucky you’ll still have a hold of your human life, Kristen. If you were turned into a Kerezan like the ones you’ve killed, you wouldn’t have been so fortunate.”

Kristen's eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing her to see her new prison. The room must've been stuck in the nineteenth century, like a display at a historical reenactment house. There weren't any modern appliances in sight, not even an alarm clock or ceiling fan, as Kristen could make out from the dim candlelight surrounding her. Most of the furniture was carved from a rich, dark wood, and the room had an aroma of dust and decaying roses. The worst of it all was that there were no windows at all. The heralds didn't want her to see the outside world ever again, from what it seemed. She would truly be their prisoner.

The servants opened the double doors of a large armoire that stored a variety of dresses, all in dark shades of colors and strangely Victorian. Kristen wasn’t clueless to figure out that these girls were placing her under a strange trap, but since there no means of escape, she’d just have to let death greet her until there was a chance. And from the looks of it, there wouldn’t be one, unless this chance was a harlequin that always seemed to be attached to Jack’s side.

“Come over here, Kristen!” Anya beckoned her to the armoire. “You’re allowed to pick out your dress for tonight.”

“I don’t wear dresses,” Kristen replied awkwardly. “They’re not my thing. I’m more of a tight-jeans and boots person.”

“But you need to look presentable! This is a ball being held in your honor. A _formal_ ball, I might add. Dr. Caine is known for throwing very lavish parties.”

“Why would there be a party in my honor if they think I’m some kind of serial killer? What, are they trying to make my suffering something elaborate?”

“Just choose a dress already,” Alice hissed, pushing Kristen closer to the armoire.

Reluctantly, Kristen began to thumb through the dresses, each fancier and more detailed than the next. Eventually, she stopped at a dark red gown with a frilly bustle and flowing sleeves that reminded her of a vampire’s wedding gown. It was fitting for the event, and was the only dress that wasn’t cream colored or outrageously hideous, merely authentic costumes for a Civil War reenactment.

“That’s a wonderful dress!” Anya said, moving aside Kristen’s arm to take the dress off the hanger. “It’s red, the color of blood. How symbolic…” 

Alice undressed Kristen, freeing her from her modern-day clothing, while Anya went back to the armoire and pulled out a corset. She wrapped it around Kristen's waist and tightly tied the strings, making Kristen gasp for air like a fish out of water as her waist was forcibly shrunken.

“I can’t fucking breathe!” Kristen choked.

“A small waist is cute,” Anya chided, tying the strings for a last time.

The girls then sat Kristen down near a mirror, and using what appeared to be makeup from several decades ago, they began to paint Kristen's face as if she was at the Haunted Carnival at the local church, getting her face done to look like a vampire. A chalky, white powder served as a base, a reminder that soon, her face would be that pale, while her eyes were heavily darkened like those of a panda's. Her lips were painted a dark red, the same shade of blood that oozed out of a wound. While Kristen appreciated the young girls and what they were seemingly forced to do, their work was far from neat. Patches of olive skin crept through the white, while her lips had already begun to crack.

“I look like a freak,” Kristen commented, glaring at her new appearance. “Can somebody tell me why this is even going on? Why am I going to some party?”

"Perhaps I could explain that,” a man with a suave, raspy voice answered from behind Kristen.

The girls suddenly got quiet, startled by the voice, and folded their hands behind their backs.

“It’s him,” Kristen heard Anya whisper to Alice nervously.

“Don’t worry about him, sis,” Alice replied quietly. “He’s not going to hurt us.”

A man wearing a dark, wrinkled suit stood in the doorway, his old-fashioned camera in hand. Paulo Ravinski was known for using his Strengoit charms to easily lure in his victims, especially new stars for his films of pain and suffering. To most, he looked like a typical mortal man, despite his white eyes and ashen skin. He was in fact Adaru's trump card, a ladies' man, always holding open auditions and lurking around town for new women to turn into ladies of the night. He called them 'beautiful sacrifices'... unless they didn't make the cut. They’d only become beautiful in death.

Noticing how uncomfortable Anya and Alice were getting just by this man's presence, Kristen spoke to break the tension. "So, you heralds love to sneak up on people, don't you all?"

“It’s just a habit we possess,” Paulo replied, stepping toward Kristen’s mirror. As she expected, there was no reflection of the demented director. “It’s part of the whole undead package, if you will.”

“I can see why.” Kristen rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, to answer your question as to why we’re throwing a party for you, remember that little part of Adaru’s sentence that involved you becoming undead? Well, that’s happening tonight, and _I’m_ the one who volunteered to give you that kiss of death. Think of it as a ceremony of sorts.”

“Oh, yeah, the servants told me.” Kristen gestured over to Anya and Alice. “They filled me in on everything I missed since I blacked out. I heard you’re a film director of sorts? Let me guess, you sacrifice people to Satan or something?”

“Not quite.” Paulo chuckled. “By sacrifice, I create films in which my actors die suffering for their passion, my art. Their sacrifice makes me stronger, and makes my films successful.”

“You _kill_ people for the art of film?” Kristen asked angrily. “What type of vision is that?”

“A rather _interesting_ one, mind you. Perhaps after the ceremony I could show you a teaser of my latest feature? It’s all about Adaru, and it’s aptly entitled ‘Fear’.”

“I’ll pass,” Kristen said through gritted teeth.

“Sir, we’re trying to prepare Kristen for the ceremony, and as you can see, we’re not quite done yet,” Anya intervened, trying to break up the potential fight. “You want her to look her best, right?”

"Who told you to speak?" Paulo's voice suddenly got cold. "Though I must say, you girls have done a decent enough job with her face so far. I happened to have overheard Kristen's dissatisfaction with your work, but with the dark eyes and the red lips, you've made her look... ravishing."

Kristen groaned and threw the nearest item that lay near her, a hairbrush, at Paulo. Laughing, he made his way out of the bedroom, and Anya quickly closed the door on him to prevent any more arguments from starting. She bent down and picked up the hairbrush from the floor, her mouth agape in disbelief.

“Whoa." There was a significant change in Anya’s voice. When she introduced herself to Kristen, she sounded perky and high-pitched, like she was putting on an act. Now, her voice had gotten slightly deeper, more natural sounding. “You really know how to defend yourself from people, don’t you?”

Kristen made a sound of agreement in her throat. “And you two know how to play creepy twin girls pulled right out of _The Shining_ ’s ass.”

“It’s the only way to really save ourselves from the heralds,” Alice said quietly as Anya chuckled, her real voice also a tad deeper. “The more respectful and obedient we are, the less abuse we receive. We must do everything the heralds demand, whether it’s serving dinner or going out to recruit legion members for Adaru. Since we’re Morphan, we don’t do much. We just give out poisoned candy which will instantly kill a mortal.”

“And what happens if you don’t do anything?”

“This is a fresh one from a few hours ago.” Alice lifted her sleeve to reveal a dark bruise against her pale skin. “Since we’re undead, injuries heal up pretty quickly, so this isn’t anything to worry about. But sometimes, the pain can be worse.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t talk about that in front of Anya, though. She’ll get extremely upset.”

“Alice, we really need to finish up,” Anya said in a panicked tone. “The heralds are going to be angered.” Her eyes kept on shifting from side to side, as if she was expecting Paulo to come back.

“It’s all right, sis!” Alice said. “We still have some time.”

Now that Kristen was painted, it was time for her to be ornamented, as if she was some dark Christmas tree. Anya opened one of the armoire's many storage cabinets and drew out a pair of lacy black gloves, while Alice began to work with Kristen's thick, dark brown locks, tying them up into a high, messy twist. As the gloves were slipped on over Kristen's arms, black, satin shoes were placed over her feet, and after a final dash of black paint over her eyelids, the servant girls stepped back to admire their work, the undead fighter turned unwilling donor.

“There,” Alice said, “you’re all ready to go. Wait until the heralds see how different you look. They love when the pretty mortals turn all ugly and stuff. Not that you’re ugly, of course.”

“She’s missing something,” Anya noticed, daintily stepping back to the armoire. She pulled out a black choker with a shape similar to a spider’s web and placed it around Kristen’s exposed neck. “Now she’s ready. What do you think, Kristen?”

Kristen emerged from her chair and admired herself in the mirror, playfully twirling around so the bustle of the dress bounced behind her. She really looked like an elegant lady, an appearance that disgusted her. She was far from elegant, preferring blood and grime on her face as opposed to heavily caked-on makeup. But if it was what the heralds desired, then she had no choice but to play along, for now.

“So, when does this ball start?” Kristen asked sardonically.

“Not until a few hours from now,” Alice replied. “It’s almost nine o’clock now, and the ball doesn’t start until eleven. Unless you want to go down and have dinner with the heralds, there really isn’t much you can do.”

“I think I might go down and try to get my way out of this. They can’t keep me locked in here forever.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Alice!” Anya exclaimed. “You can’t say that! Lady Luck will only make the situation worse! Kristen, do you want us to usher you to the dining room?”

“Usher,” Alice snorted. “We’ve got an usher around these places.”

“Don’t even remind me of the usher!” Kristen exclaimed, startled. “He’s the one who caught me and my comrades.”

“Your comrades?” Anya asked.

"My friends and fellow fighters," Kristen explained. "There's my girlfriend Nina, and Ethan, my cousin who wanted to learn more about zombie hunting. We all met after Nina's mother got bitten by a Kerezan and Ethan was kicked out of his house. At that time, ZAP was only open for a few months, and we were looking for new hires. I took them both under my wing, and now they're some of the best fighters I've ever known."

Then, there was a knock on the door. The voice behind the door spoke, or rather hoarsely squealed a pattern of sounds that Anya and Alice seemed to perfectly understand.

“Is he okay?” Kristen asked while listening to the voice.

“That’s just one of Albert’s followers,” Anya explained. “His name is Gryffin, and the only way he can communicate is through squealing, since his tongue was ripped out. Anyway, he’s trying to tell us that your presence is requested downstairs for dinner. Looks like you have to go.”

Kristen felt like a sword had been stabbed straight through her heart. There was no telling how the heralds would talk to her or even treat her now, especially since they were free to do whatever they wished with her. She took a deep breath and wrung her gloved hands together anxiously, biting on her painted lip as Anya opened the door. The dark burgundy wallpaper of the manor's hallway greeted her, a sign of what the interior of her new home looked like. She was living in a castle, but she would be no queen.

"I can do this." Kristen picked up her skirts and followed behind the servants to a staircase a few feet away. "I won't let these freaks bring me down. I will stand my ground."


	7. Masque of Sorrow

Kristen froze atop the first step of the staircase, her heart plummeting to her stomach. Her grand prison was a living nightmare, a scene straight out of a gothic horror novel. Bile rose in her throat as the scent of dried-up blood hit her nostrils, the flowery, faux aroma of potpourri not doing much to mask out the smell. Kristen thought it would be a good idea to stand perfectly still and wait out her fate with Anya and Alice. If she took one more step down, she'd be rebelling against herself, giving the heralds exactly what they wanted. But she knew she wouldn't be able to stall around for much longer, even as the bald, albino follower gestured for her to continue on down, take one step closer to her demise.

"I can't." Kristen shook her head and held back the tears. “I can't do this!"

"Kristen?" Anya tiptoed down to her side. "Do you need a minute?"

"I need an hour." Kristen lowered her head onto the surface of the staircase rail, the chill of the cold wood comforting her. "I can't go down there. They'll just think I'm succumbing to the demon!"

"I've got some advice." Alice joined her sister's side and placed a supportive hand on Kristen's shoulder. "Do you want to know what the best way to defeat fear is? You've got to be brave. You can't let them take over you even if you've been sentenced to die here. It's the best thing you can do to show them that you're not weak. Trust me, it's helped us in many, many situations. Just think... the braver you are, the closer you are to eliminating Adaru's chances of taking over us."

Kristen took a moment to let Alice's advice sink in. Surely she knew that being brave while letting the horrors come to her was also being assertive. It's how she battled her inner demons, deeply extinguishing them from her mind. But was hiding away her true emotions, the ones that made her want to put a bullet through the heralds' heads and savage them to death be the right answer? In the end, it couldn't be. She couldn't be so much of a fighter forever. After all, she lost. The battle was already over.

"Thank you, Alice," Kristen said quietly, wringing together her hands again. "That... that helped a bit."

Alice gave a sharp-toothed smile. "Glad to see my advice is helping others out. Now go on down and show them who you truly are."

Slowly, Kristen made her way down the staircase and entered the dining room, her head lowered. The heralds ogled at her with amusement, quietly chortling to themselves as they sipped at goblets of Bloodberry wine. She couldn't bear to look at these murderers, these ass-kissers to a demon, but they were who she was forced to follow now. In their own twisted way, the heralds were right to stop her from slaughtering the undead. One more strike and she would've been executed without trial, a true fugitive of Adaru's law.

 _Show them who you truly are_. A scared out of her mind, weak crybaby was what she truly was. Death awaited her beyond open doors. How would she fight without her weapons or even her courage in hand?

“Come closer, Kristen,” Albert said. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Kristen lifted her head up and fought back her urge to faint at all the undead seated at the table. The heralds themselves had a few guests, such as Jack's pigtailed, harlequin girlfriend Chance, and Albert's young daughter, Cindy. The young girl gaped at Kristen in awe, eyeing her dress like admiring a doll standing in a toyshop window. After shooting the young girl an icy glare, Kristen scanned her eyes around the perimeter of the table, trying to find an empty seat. She was amazed at her ability to hold her stance while she was doomed to be a blood bank for the director, but she didn't want to make assumptions. She didn’t want to sit next to any of the heralds, but it was impossible. Standing face to face in front of them was one thing, but sitting right next to them made her want to die.

Eventually, Kristen managed to find an empty seat at the edge of the table, but it was next to the herald she despised the most.

Julian Browning. _The snitch usher._

Kristen unceremoniously approached the seat and sat down, keeping her gaze away from the heralds, and especially Julian. She was trying so hard to be mute, to not yell and protest. She had to be, or else someone's ass was going to get murdered and not be able to have an afterlife. That was what Kristen was at least grateful for. She'd be living, although dead. Night of the living dead indeed.

“Well, friends,” Albert began, rising from his seat with his goblet in hand, “thanks to Julian’s interference, we have finally stopped the extinction of the legions. We have caught the rebel guilty of her sinful actions against us!” The heralds applauded slowly, much to Kristen’s displeasure. “Our task is completed. Kristen Romero is now our prisoner!”

As the heralds applauded her downfall, Kristen wanted to scream. How she wished she had her Marlin, she could shoot all these bastards and run away into the forest, to escape and find her comrades. She wasn't expecting to be a political prisoner of sorts, to have her rights completely stripped from her grasp by a group of undead, nonetheless. Back in New Orleans, her father tried to warn government officials that the undead apocalypse was on the rise, but of course, he was mistaken for being a madman with his conspiracy theories. Perhaps if she died, this would be an example to the rest of the United States what would occur if they didn't take heed.

“So, Kristen, do you still mourn the deaths of the ones who founded the business against us?” Albert asked as he sat back down. “It is perfectly fine if you wish to shed a few tears. I’m quite used to prolonged periods of mourning.”

Kristen couldn’t answer. She kept a blank face, trying to show all of them that their laughs and mockery weren’t affecting her. But deep down inside, they were. They were laughing at her suffering. To them, suffering was comedic, just another sideshow. They wanted to watch as the mortal soul died right in front of them, to be replaced with the urge to kill and serve a vengeful demon.

“Oh, it must be a tragic subject for you to discuss.” Before she could answer, Albert began to speak again. “I do have their corpses buried in my graveyard if you wish to mourn over them sometime. After all, my home _is_ a functioning mortuary.”

“Bring up my father again, and I’ll do everything in my power to kill you,” Kristen said venomously, pounding her fists on the table. “I’ll kill every last one of you!”

The heralds' laughter grew stronger, becoming a sinister cacophony that made Kristen’s ears ring. Lady Luck was practically screeching her head off, banging her hand on the dinner table as she struggled to catch another breath and later, a drink. She was becoming drunk with her specialty, unluckiness. The Lady basked in the glory of leading people into terrible predicaments, and what may possibly be her greatest feat sat feet away from her. Kristen lowered her head and narrowed her eyes down. She couldn't stand being in the company of these heralds, and only two minutes had passed.

Anya and a young male servant entered the dining room, wheeling a cart topped with a huge platter that billowed steam from beneath the edges. The servants went to work with approaching each seat, cutting into what appeared to be a hunk of meat wrapped in a cream-colored pastry to place onto the heralds' plates.

"Don't be scared, Kristen," Anya whispered so quietly that only Kristen could hear her. "Be brave, like Alice said.”

Kristen glanced down at the meat, and her eyes widened in disgust. "What is this?"

“It is called _gigot d’homme_ , Lady Kristen,” the young boy, named Gabriel replied as Anya cut up some of the meat. “I’m not allowed to tell you what the dish’s name translates to.”

Kristen was left to discover what _gigot d'homme_ meant once Anya set the meat on her plate and headed off to Julian's seat. She took her fork and turned the meat around, nearly flinging it right off her plate when she noticed a bloody, meaty stump on the side, and a large bone protruding from the middle. Glancing at the heralds chowing down at their meal, she had no choice but to play along and taste what could very possibly be a human limb for herself.

Kristen grabbed the knife, and as she did, the heralds stopped eating to gawk at her. She could plunge the knife into any of their hearts to kill them, especially Paulo since he was a Strengoit, and the best way to kill one was to impale them in the heart. But even as the knife glittered in the candlelight, Kristen had to suppress her urges. She balled her hand into a strong fist and stabbed the knife right into her _gigot d'homme_ , making the cannibalistic pastry ooze out blood onto her white plate.

 _Gigot d’homme._ Leg. They were feeding her _leg of man_.

“It’s human!” Kristen cried out in horror.

“What was that, Kristen?” Albert asked inquisitively, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re feeding me _human!_ "

“Well, it _is_ survival of the fittest now,” Jack remarked.

“ _Survival of the fittest?_ ” Kristen shouted. “That’s the best you fucks can come up with? I don’t understand why you like to watch people suffer so much. You've been resurrected for the wrong reason! The dead are supposed to rest in peace, not terrorize the living! But somehow, you've all managed to do just that. People can't even leave their houses because the town's become so dangerous, thanks to you all."

"But maybe it's because the Zombie Awareness Program hasn't been doing their job well enough?" Paulo asked tauntingly.

Kristen grabbed the knife and aimed it toward the heart of the director. "Don't even think of talking shit. We've done all that we can to protect everyone, but in the end you all just had to intervene so you got what you wanted. Don't you know that once Adaru gets all his souls the world is going to become practically nothing? What will we have to live for then?"

“Oh, look at you, being all high and mighty,” Jack said with a sneer. “You’ve lost, Romero! It’s over! Now sit down and shut the fuck up!”

“Jack, let’s not make this a huge quarrel,” Albert told the clown sternly. “We have a rebellious soul here who isn’t used to the other end of justice. She will understand soon.”

“We may need to give her more time,” Elsa told the others sympathetically. “She is still trying to adjust to the announcement that she will become one of us. We shouldn’t be forcing her out here to mingle with us! There will be time for her to do so at the ceremony.”

“You’re damn right,” Kristen whispered, tears stinging in her eyes. Out of all these heralds, the old woman known for stabbing knitting needles in people's eyes and writing gruesome stories seemed to care?

Kristen rose from her seat and bunched up her skirts in her hands. None of the heralds seemed to care, as they continued to dine on their cannibalistic meal, except for Julian. The usher gave her that look of intrigue and disgust she had seen plenty of times before, the glare that made her want to throw him against the wall and rip that pristinely-kept uniform into shreds.

“What are you looking at?” Kristen barked.

Julian's lip trembled. Was the usher actually going to reply to her? Not that she cared about what he would say, but it would be interesting if the usher dared to fight back instead of sulk.

Turning her back to him, Kristen rushed out of the dining room, not even bothering to check if any of the heralds got up to chase after her. Because of them, she had nothing to live for, even in her afterlife. She'd be a soulless urchin, forced to drink blood and seduce prey for Paulo and Fortuna's advantage.

Kristen slammed her door shut and collapsed onto her bed. She sobbed into her pillow, her chest painfully heaving up and down. It felt like all her emotions were caught in a whirlwind, finally now freeing themselves of her body. It was sadness, confusion, and rage all in one, and she had only just noticed. The members of the legions she had killed in the past were now coming back to haunt her and make her one of them. She was receiving the punishment that the undead called justice, and she had only just noticed what their twisted form of comeuppance contained.

It was the cruelest form of role reversal she had ever seen.

* * *

An hour or two later, Kristen awoke to the sound of joyous, orchestral music playing loudly on a gramophone. The transformation ceremony had begun without her actually being there, but she knew it was all an elaborate act the heralds were putting on to entice her to join them. She could lock herself in this room all night if she had to, but as she eyed the door, she realized there was no lock on her end.

Kristen walked over to the mirror to double-check her hair and makeup, but then realized it really wouldn’t make a difference. With her messy bed hair and stained makeup, she looked like a beautified corpse dug fresh out of a grave, how the heralds wanted her to look, and how she felt deep down inside. She brought two fingers to her jugular vein and rested them against her neck, taking the time to feel her pulse. In just an hour, it would be gone, her life frozen by immortality. How could one usher themselves to death, Kristen wondered, especially when they’ve got the chance to run away?

After shutting the door behind her, Kristen stood with her back against the door to recollect her thoughts, wringing her gloved hands together. She had let them win, and there was no going back now. She couldn’t fight anymore, now that the time for that was gone. Everything and everyone important to her was gone: Hayley might be dead, Ethan might be dead, and Nina might be dead. Her father and George had already died trying to stop what they fought against. Now, it was her turn, and although she could bolt out of the manor’s door, there truly was no escape.

"Enough of your self-pitying," a slimy voice next to her said. "Once you are undead, nothing of the past will matter anymore."

Kristen lifted her head up and choked back her gasp of horror.

_Julian._

"How do you know?" The question came out more innocently than she had hoped.

“Because, obviously, I am undead myself,” Julian answered, “but I did not wish to become this way, nor was I initially accepting of it. When Fortuna told me that I had become a Kerezan, she told me that the struggles I had in my mortal past were of no use to solve anymore. My only mission now is to kill those who invoke my vengeance and send their souls away. It is best to… forget what you once lived for. I was rather fortunate to have died in the Palace, protecting her from the ones who wanted to hurt her. But look what I’ve become.”

"I can't let ZAP die," Kristen whispered painfully. "Don't the others know that this Adaru shit is never going to work? No one has the capability to take over the whole world."

"Believe me, Kristen, he can." Julian sounded foreboding, cautious almost. "Before him, no things were created unless eternal, and he happens to be eternal himself. It has been prophesized that one day, once he has received enough souls, he will be able to free himself from his bounds and bring hell with him. Being a herald has saved my afterlife, and I cannot thank Fortuna enough for not letting me just... die."

The usher let the word hang, almost in a solemn manner. There was a certain sadness lingering in his words, Kristen could detect, as if he mourned over something precious he could no longer have.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed twelve times over the party music. _Midnight._

“I must get you to the ball now. Albert is not a person who is fine with tardiness, and neither am I.”

And for the first time, Kristen didn’t rebel against him. She followed the rules.

As Julian ushered Kristen into the ballroom, many thoughts rung in her mind. _I'm going to die tonight. This isn't how I wanted to die. I'd want to be surrounded by my family and friends, telling them of my adventures out on the battlefield. But now, I have to become a vampire because I have nowhere else to go. I've lost the battle. I've lost everything._

Taking one last, deep breath, Kristen wandered into the groups of undead guests conversing with each other and sipping at goblets of blood. Albert led Cindy in a dance, nearly comedic because of their different heights. Paulo stood off to the side filming the entire event, while a ghostly, scratched up woman observed the ceremony from inside a nearby mirror. Kristen turned her head to perhaps ponder over a final escape attempt, but her hope had already dwindled. There was no going back now. And besides, Julian had closed the doors and stood with his back resting against them, preventing her from even thinking about it.

“Kristen!” Albert approached her, breaking off his dance with Cindy. “You’ve decided to embrace your fate at last.”

“I had to,” Kristen replied meekly. She recalled what Julian told her. _Once you’re undead, nothing of the past will matter anymore._

“Well, I am pleased to see that your rebellious exterior is starting to fade. You’ve even prepared yourself to display the situation!”

“I didn’t do it,” Kristen said a bit tensely. Although she loosened up for Julian, her rebellious nature wasn’t gone for good. “Anya and Alice helped me out. They did a pretty good job.”

“Yes, those servant girls have a vast variety of abilities. Now, I do want you to come and enjoy the ball. It _is_ in your honor!”

“Dance with me first, Kristen!” Cindy exclaimed, jumping right in front of her.

“Uh,” Kristen glanced back at the heralds and their guests, who had fallen silent and eerily grinned at her. “Sure, I guess.”

Cindy took Kristen's hands and led her in a gentle round of 'Ring Around the Rosie'. As they spun, Kristen's vision messed with her senses, showing her blurry images of things she hadn't seen before. Her heart raced when she thought she saw Nina hiding behind a colonnade, watching her girlfriend's fall from grace, but as she was spun additional times, Nina didn't seem to actually be there. With each spin came a different person. Ethan stood by a corner, rubbing his reddened eyes, and Hayley watched from afar, burying her face in her hands. Perhaps the hallucination that shocked Kristen the most was that of her own father, standing amongst the crowd of undead with his katana in hand. The blade wasn't aimed at the undead, though, but rather at her very own head.

"No, stop!" Kristen shouted. Cindy’s spins became faster as the ghosts became clearer and they began to point and laugh. "You're trying to trick me!"

“Ashes, ashes,” Cindy merely sung in her girlish voice, “we all fall down!”

 _We all fall down…_ a deep, ominous voice said in Kristen’s head. _We all fall…_

“Stop this!” Kristen screamed.

Giggling, Cindy knocked Kristen down to her knees, her red skirts a crumbled mess behind her.

"What a shame. We were having so much fun!"

"No, we weren't," Kristen said icily. "You're just as vain as your father."

Surprisingly, Cindy wasn't hurt by Kristen's remark. “So are you."

Cindy went back to dancing with Albert, leaving Kristen alone to attempt socializing with the heralds. Hesitantly, she approached a table where Elsa, Lady Luck, and Chance were sitting, discussing matters of death, as Elsa droned on about stabbing a spear into someone's brain. They're the women of the Order, Kristen thought, they're not going to hurt me. But much to her disgust, Jack was at the table as well, occasionally using his gloved hand to feel up Chance’s fishnet covered leg. 

"Kristen," Luck said in amusement as Kristen sat down at the table. "Just the girl I wanted to see. You know, I found your little friends and your sister near the Palace Theater earlier."

“You did?” Kristen gasped in excitement. This was the first time she was greeted with something positive, something about her loved ones. There may still be hope. “You know about everybody’s luck. Tell me everything!”

Luck smirked. To Kristen, something was clearly wrong, but to Luck, things were only in her favor.

"I'll be honest with you. Their fates aren't any stronger than yours. You see, I found them sitting in an alleyway, waiting for you. They were on the brink of devastation, so hopeless... so I had to tell them you weren't coming back to save them. I said that you decided to give up all hope and that you merely accepted your fate. There was nothing you could do to save them."

"I would never say those things, you bitch!" A sharp pang of regret stabbed through Kristen's heart.

“Well, they believed me,” Luck chuckled. “They’re off on their own now, trying to find Eddie.”

“He’s dead now,” Jack added. “Albert got the little prick, and now Adaru’s got his soul.”

“No!” Kristen cried. As if this night couldn’t get any worse, now Eddie was done for, too?

"That fool was on your side, Romero! He should've got the note to join the Maschorians once Adaru came back. Damn fool wouldn't know evil if it stared him straight in the eye." Jack took a swig of his wine. "I'm quite disappointed with him, actually. He had great potential as a killer, with that little business he had."

“Business?” Kristen asked. “He never told me about any business.”

“He was murder for hire, Romero. He was at it for several years before he got butt-hurt over me and my Carnival of Carnage. I don’t blame him, though. He was just a discount version of good ol’ Bubba Sawyer.”

“Jack’s got a point, you know,” Chance added a bit hesitantly, trying to change the subject. “Eddie couldn’t stay for much longer. He was betraying the Order!”

“He was trying to protect the mortals!” Kristen exclaimed. “He helped us out so much at ZAP, but he was… one of you, too?” She took a deep sigh and lowered her head in defeat. “You were all right. Everyone’s gone.”

“Paulo,” Albert said firmly. “It is time. Gabriel, change the record to the one I have labeled for you.”

Gabriel nodded and switched out the record of joyous, orchestral music to one that played a gloomy, slow waltz. Kristen stood vulnerable and alone in the center of the ballroom, her body tensing up in fear. Here they were, her last moments as a mortal, and they were to be made into a grand spectacle for the undead to gawk at. In the end, her death was only another success for the undead elite.

Paulo strolled up to her, placing his camera in Gryffin's hands. The harpsichord parts of the piece resonated throughout the ballroom as he placed his cold hands in hers, and stared her straight in the eyes. Kristen couldn't believe how hideously unnatural the director's eyes were, all pale and nearly lifeless. The closer she gazed into them, the nearer she was to succumbing to his Strengoit spell.

“Just follow my lead,” Paulo told Kristen. “I don’t want Fortuna’s random dancing lessons to go to waste.”

Paulo began to lead Kristen in a waltz a bit out of time with the music. Kristen soon started to see the ghosts of her past again, although this time, they didn't display their mockery. Hayley's sobs echoed throughout the ballroom, overpowering the music, leaving Kristen to question if she was the only one able to hear them. Nina muttered under her breath in agony, lifting her head up to watch Kristen literally being lured into Paulo's trap. Kristen broke her gaze from the director's and looked in Nina's pleading, brown eyes, trying to at least comfort herself before death's kiss. But as their eyes locked, Nina's ghost faded away.

"What's wrong, Kristen?" Paulo asked. "Seeing things again?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"You look so nervous... I've never seen such pure emotion on your face. There's so much film can show, you know."

From then on, Kristen kept her eyes on Paulo's shoes at all times. Manipulation was definitely a Strengoit's preferred tactic, and striking appearances another. Paulo had both, and now, Kristen was unable to stop herself from succumbing to the beast.

“Paulo?” Kristen eventually asked. Her voice was breathy, a sign that she feared her own death. “Are you… are you going to do it now?”

After one more spin, Paulo held Kristen close to him and tilted her head back to reach the target, her jugular vein. He brushed back a dark strand of hair and stroked the crook of her neck gently. This was the moment that Adaru may have been savoring in his underground lair, the very moment when she would go from fighter to donor. She had lost the battle. There was no going back.

“Ready?” Paulo asked Kristen, trying to hold back laughter.

“Do your worst,” Kristen replied dryly.

A pair of fangs retracted from Paulo's grin. Before Kristen could manage to break free from his grasp, he put her neck in his hands and sank his fangs into the delicate flesh covering all her inner workings. His fangs pierced through her jugular vein while Kristen screeched in pain, her body going numb and cold from head to toe. Her vision became hazy and blurry, a kaleidoscope of the muted colors around her. The ghosts of her family and friends watched on in disapproval, hiding their eyes from the fate they never thought would come true. Now, there wasn't anything to truly live for.

Kristen fainted in the director's arms, letting the curse succumb and the blood rush down her neck. She gazed into the candlelight around her, but couldn't find any solace or comfort in it. Instead, she tried to concentrate on memories of the past as they rapidly played in her head, like the moment of her first kill in the heart of the woods, and the time she and Nina stood outside in the rain by the university, realizing that they may have been in love. The images faded one by one, until finally, there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

 When she woke up, Kristen found herself laying on the floor in the center of the ballroom, the many undead guests swarming over her. Was she really one of the walking dead now? Frantically, she stuck her hands out in front of her, and dread filled up every nerve when she saw they were as white as paper, and her nails long like talons. She looped a strand of hair around her finger and noticed it changed from brunette to pitch black. Horror ravaged Kristen, making her shake and squirm in disbelief and shock. It didn't help much that the heralds and their guests watched in amazement, especially Paulo as he practically shoved his camera lens right into Kristen's face.

"Get that away from me!" Kristen hissed, bearing her fangs.

Paulo lowered the camera. "Well, sorry, Kristen. I wanted to get a good shot of your first reaction. Might I say you're absolutely breathtaking? I mean, those bloody red lips of yours... perfectly complements your pale skin, wouldn't you say? Albert, get her to a mirror. She needs to see this for herself!"

Taking Albert's hand, Kristen rose to her feet and was ushered over to a mirror on the wall. The ghostly woman who lived behind it faded away, showing the extravagant decor of the ballroom that was behind Kristen. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she brought a hand to the mirror, letting her fingertips slide against the cold, hard glass.

"There's no reflection," Kristen said in fear. "I can't see myself!"

"That's because you're a vampire, Kristen," Paulo told her with a laugh. "I thought you knew. Vampires cannot see their own reflections."

"No..." Kristen hiccupped on her tears. "No… what have you done to me?”

The heralds laughed joyously in triumph, elated that their task to bring Kristen into the undead society was a success. Kristen whipped her head around and observed her captors, tears welling in her eyes. She sunk down to her knees and sobbed into her hands. She had become what she had fought against: a mindless, ruthless, undead creature of the night.

And it was all because of what she had done to stop them.


	8. Fear Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude in which Paulo and Adaru discuss recent developments, and Adaru sets his eyes on someone in particular.

"The Romero girl is dead, Master, and her comrades are in desperation."

Adaru grinned widely at Paulo's news, leaning in closer to the filmmaker from his throne. Euphoria rushed through his veins - this was the best morsel of news he could ever receive. Now that the rebel girl was kidnapped and transformed into one of the undead - a promising Strengoit to satisfy her blood lust, to be exact - he was steps away from making his ascension onto the mortal earth. Kristen Romero was the huge sliver making up most of their problems, and now that she was theirs, life for the undead would forever be changed.

"Tell me more, Sacrifice," Adaru rasped, tapping his rotten, jagged fingernails against the top of a bone armrest. "What was it like when the girl realized there is no hope left for her?"

"Absolutely breathtaking, my Lord. Simply stunning." Paulo loaded up his film reel on the old projector he had brought to the cavern. "I had one of Caine's servants film the ceremony just for you. It's a rough copy of the scene, but I think you'll rather enjoy it."

Light flooded atop one of the cavern's rocky walls as the film began to take form, the images bouncing around due to the short frame rate. Kristen stood alone in her elegant, red gown, frozen with the fear of anticipation as Paulo came up to her and led her into a waltz. Adaru was able to see the moving pictures now, having gained back his eyesight as more souls were claimed and became trapped in his lantern. There was something in Kristen's darkly shaded eyes that Adaru rather admired. They were wide and intense, shifting from side to side as she realized just how broken she had become. Innocence still lingered in the feisty fighter, and as far as Adaru could tell, she was skilled at keeping it to herself. He knew the boundary between genuine and feigned innocence, and always knew how to break that boundary to access what he wanted, what he needed. Kristen's was a special kind, being rebellious even in the face of danger, but once her tough facade was torn away, there was a darker, more vulnerable side underneath.

Paulo stopped Kristen in the middle of the waltz and tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Kristen trembled and shook in the director's grasp, the assorted eyes of the undead around her gazing in delighted awe. Paulo then sank his fangs into Kristen's neck, forming two small holes that instantly oozed with blood. Kristen's trembles became convulsions, spastic movements of her last mortal moments. The passage between life and death was always Adaru's favorite part of a soul claim. It was intriguing how suffering could be so beautiful, especially when revenge found its way right back at the avenger. If only he could hear her cries, her terrified moans as her life faded away. Kristen's fear was delicate, but her spirit was ravishing, and when exposed to the right conditions, she could be sublime.

Adaru's heart stirred. In addition to his excitement, another emotion began to usurp his mind, an emotion he hadn't felt in what seemed to be an eternity. It possessed his thoughts slowly, nipping at his heels. Kristen's depression only made him more powerful, yet her suffering was delectable. He had never felt such strong emotion in any other woman but her, the one who tried to stop him from his rightful duty. She desired for her old life to return, but in death, she would find a new passion... even if it meant joining him at his side for the rest of eternity.

"Like what you're seeing, my Lord?"

Adaru turned back to Paulo. "Her suffering is the most beautiful I've ever witnessed."

"Isn't it? Suffering is a very underrated art form, in my opinion. Nothing compares to real blood on film. It's the only way to really capture the emotion, the fear, the reality, the way the victim is feeling. I was thinking of using this scene in a propaganda film of sorts, to rally up more interest in our cause. You never know if there are mortals out there who support us.”

"Speaking of mortals, what of her so-called comrades?" Adaru inquired. "Is Fortuna... _assisting_ them?"

Paulo hesitated. "I haven't heard of any recent developments."

Adaru drove his fist into the throne's armrest. "I need them now!"

"My Lord, there’s no need to worry! You'll receive their souls soon enough."

Kristen's comrades, in a way, were even weaker than her. Alive, but just barely, fighting for survival. He would make them suffer for their crimes, breaking into every inch of their minds for the things they feared most. They would come begging, pleading with him to take their souls as the dead walked the earth and the need for rebellion ceased. 

Adaru rose from his throne and began to pace around the cavern, the fabric of his man-made wings flowing with his walk. "The twentieth cycle is on the horizon, Sacrifice. I wait no longer! They shall be in my grasp! They cannot hide from us forever, you know! Why has it taken this long for the other rebel souls to be claimed?"

"We're unsure of their whereabouts. Fortuna's been trying to track them down, but she's been preoccupied with the Spirit Seekers branch in Orlando trying to intervene with our plans. Haven't Balen and Amaranth given you any suggestions?"

"They're meaningless." He hadn't heard much from the members of the High Council, anyway. They were more occupied with the new initiatives' sorting and training than anything else.

"Well, I'll tell you what. Fortuna and I have a little date at the Palace Theater coming up. We're thinking of bringing the Romero girl so she can begin to quench her thirst, so to speak. I'll make sure to ask Fortuna what her plans are for the days ahead."

How he wished to please his mistress, his vile vixen of the human mind. Fortuna was his inspiration, his beacon of unholy light that led him to find conquest in his mission again. He knew he could not let her down. She had been waiting for mortality to bow to her feet since their reign over mankind began, waiting for the day when the mortals coming across her power simply wasn't enough. These mortals, and the undead as well, needed to learn that fear is all they knew. It consumed them, possessed them, and revived them, bound only to serve for the corruptness of the world. Power would come to both him and to Fate, the two forces that would soon dominate the world and control the living.

"We don't have much time, Sacrifice. Now that we have the Romero girl, we will need to stop the rest of the rebels that still remain."

"And I ensure you that we will, my Lord, for I fear that their luck will soon run out."


	9. Beast Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan, Nina, and Hayley find shelter at a harmless looking home, but when they come face to face with its owner, they discover secrets that may change their views.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentioned child abuse and neglect (in Ethan's backstory).

Hayley rose from the couch she slept on, shielding her eyes from the creeping rays of sunlight with her arm. After decapitating Eddie back at RUN, she, Nina, and Ethan found an empty, mostly intact home in the southern side of town, away from most of the undead populated areas. They were too tired to stoke out the house for any supplies or food, falling asleep as soon as their bodies crashed onto the couches in the living room. Sleep was a priceless commodity now. It was the only time they were able to escape from the incoming war, to put their mind off of things.

Through the cracks of the windows, Hayley examined the houses across the street, all small and quaint like this one was. Although the streets weren't stained with dried up blood and brain chunks like Main Street, Hayley received her good look of what Carey had become, what she feared would happen if Kristen and her comrades were late to take action. Since the heralds had broken in and practically stole everything, Hayley assumed, this was the result of what would lead up to the War of the Living Dead. And this wasn't even the worst of it. Adaru could easily attain his power any day now, with the amount of people disappearing and being killed each day.

 _Poor, innocent people,_ Hayley thought, her sight closing in on one house in particular, a terracotta colored home with broken windows. It reminded her of the old house in New Orleans, back when zombie hunting didn't consume her entire family. Her father had a job as an auto mechanic and had an interest in modifying older car models, while Kristen was beginning to study for her cellular biology major at a nearby community college. Their mother had died during a Mardi Gras parade at the beginning of the year, torn to pieces while the parade spectators thought it was some sort of false voodoo performance. Hayley remembered the headlines of the newspapers – they called her mother’s death the Zombie Gras incident, like it was the name of a cheesy, B-grade horror film as opposed to a real life horror.

Now, looked what happened. The dead strengthened their numbers and their power, just when everyone thought it was impossible. Zombie Gras was a warning that people didn't take heed of, and now, they would have to pay the ultimate price for their ignorance, in death.

Nina woke up next, tying her dark, curly hair into a ponytail with an elastic band wrapped around her wrist. After rolling around her neck and cracking her knuckles, she noticed Hayley was awake and gave a tired smile. Hayley returned the favor, but kept her eyes on the ground, trying to blink away the tears that threatened to leak.

“What time is it, Hayley?” Nina mumbled tiredly.

Hayley checked her watch. “Three-thirty.”

“Damn, we’ve got to get moving! Get up, Ethan!”

 _Maybe undead hunting isn’t all it’s meant to be,_ Hayley thought to herself. _Kristen made it look like the best thing in the whole world. I can’t go and kill someone who was once living with my own hands! Once everyone’s dead, how would we kill Adaru anyway? I can’t fight like Kristen, or any of her friends. If I try, I’ll just get killed._

“Hayley, are you okay?”

Nina’s voice startled Hayley back to attention.

“This isn’t going to end anytime soon,” Hayley said with a quiver. “The legions are eating up everybody, one by one. They’re only getting more people on their side. How can we kill all of them when we’re doomed to become undead, too?”

“Hey, look at us!” Nina said encouragingly. “We’re still alive and kicking ass!”

"I know. But Dad might be dead now. And George, and possibly even..."

Hayley broke down in tears. She was trying to make a good impression for Ethan and Nina, her sister’s awesome comrades and friends. They fought with all these heavy weapons, while she sat away in the corner, reading a book. She wanted to go out and fight! And she was trying, observing how Ethan sliced Eddie’s head off so she could use the same tactic whenever battle arose. But now, she realized that fighting off evil couldn’t be her strongest suit, without thinking of the lives the dead once lived.

“Oh, Hayley…” Nina said sadly, wrapping her arms around her. “I know you’re upset about your sister. So are me and Ethan.” She looked out of the cracked window, trying to find some determination in the light. “We’re going to find her. I know she’s still out there somewhere, I know it.”

Hayley wanted to tell Nina that Kristen wasn't the only thing on her mind right now. She wanted to be a comrade too, to actually fight against the undead just like her older sister. But she wasn't cynical and agile like Ethan and Nina, merely sensitive and homely, as she was somewhat raised to be. "You're too young," she'd be told all the time, even though she was fourteen years old. She was sick of being the baby. How could she prove her worth?

A little while later, Ethan woke up. In panic, he quickly shifted his hand over to where Eddie’s decapitated head lay on his belt. Luckily, it was still there, all in one piece. He gave a sigh of relief and smoothed back his hair.

"Before we leave, we've got to collect up anything useful this house has,” Ethan then told the girls. “Now, I have no idea who used to live here, or if any of their food expired, but we’re not leaving this house empty-handed."

"Ooh, I call the refrigerator!" Nina exclaimed. "Hayley, you get the cabinets, and Ethan, you get the pantry. I am literally starving my ass off here!"

The three got to work finding food items in their new shelter, but much to their dismay, there wasn’t much they were able to collect. Cans of soup had expiration dates from as far as a year ago, while boxes of non-perishable items like granola bars and beef jerky were empty. The only solid piece of food that seemed to be around was a bag full of bread rolls. Smiling, Hayley turned the bag over, but her joy turned to frightened screams as a small group of roaches crawled inside the bag, soiling the rolls from consumption.

“Well, looks like food is out of the question,” Ethan said, dismayed. “Did anyone see any kitchen knives lying around?”

Hayley eyed an empty knife rack. “Looks like the Morphans took them all.”

“What, for their deranged pumpkin carving contest?” Nina retorted.

"Who's there?" An elderly woman shouted from the upstairs level of the house, startling the three. "Who came into my house?"

"Oh shit," Ethan whispered to the girls, “looks like we’ve got company!”

"I can hear you, you know! I'm armed!"

"Quick, run!" Nina exclaimed, but before they could bolt out the front door, the elderly woman had already made her way downstairs. Her long, white hair stained of dirt and blood hung in her eyes, barely concealing the jagged scratches on her face. Her piercing blue eyes easily read of danger and retaliation, warning the three that they were in huge trouble. She had a rifle not unlike Kristen's in her hands, the barrel aimed toward the three, as if preparing to shoot without any remorse for the stragglers.

"Ma'am, if we can explain..." Hayley began, her voice shaky with fear as her eyes began to water.

"I don't need any explanations, girlie!" The woman aimed the barrel toward the ceiling and fired off a shot, sending bits of drywall hurdling onto the pink carpeted floor. "I hate it when people think they can come barging into my home for free shelter! Think of the mortals still living a hair's length away from death! The nerve of some people!"

“There’s no need to yell at her like that!” Ethan said defensively. “Look at her, she’s only a kid!”

"We're sorry!” Hayley sobbed. “Just please, miss, we were only looking for shelter! Our base got destroyed and we have nowhere to go!”

"Base?" The woman's eyes softened. "Are you three from the Zombie Awareness Program?"

"More like _were_ ," Nina said mournfully. "The heralds took over base and we can't go back. Everything's been destroyed."

"Oh..." the woman murmured, lowering her rifle. “I'm so sorry about my outbursts, children. I didn't know you three had connections to ZAP! Come, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable."

The three sat down on the couches they previously slept on, while the old woman sat down in a beaten-up armchair nearby.

"Now, since ZAP has been taken over by the heralds, what are you three up to?"

"We're trying to save my sister, Kristen," Hayley replied. "She's been taken by Adaru’s heralds and we don't know what's happened to her since."

"Oh, the famous Kristen Romero!” The woman clasped her hands together. “Quite a rebellious fighter girl, I've heard. Her zeal for her cause was very strong."

"You bet," Nina said with a proud smile. "She's always been dedicated to what she does best.”

"And I believe she knew of the threat the heralds could possibly create?" the woman further inquired.

"She didn't quite know a name to a face, but yeah," Ethan replied. "It was always 'the usher' or 'the creepy clown'. But she definitely knew that the Order of Fear was something she wanted to destroy."

"Oh, do I have some information that may help you, then. You know, I used to be a fortune teller a few years ago. Madame Monica, I was called. But I received a cease-and-desist notice from a woman named Elizabeth Hawthorne, claiming that I was out to take away her clients. 'The Almighty Fortuna', she called herself... huh, sure. The woman had to use cue cards to make her guesses."

"You mean Lady Luck?" Nina asked.

Monica paused as if what she revealed shouldn’t have been said. "No, not Lady Luck. I happen to know the Lady quite well. She was an old teacher of mine from when I used to serve in the Iniquitus."

"What's that?" Hayley asked, intrigued.

"A simple underground council for the undead, a sort of law force. They control all the amounts of blood that can be collected up for usage, or when certain events in the undead society can happen. I used to be their mortal ally, working in tandem with the Spirit Seekers, but I have taken vows many years ago to not disclose their information. So, unfortunately, I cannot say much other than the basics. The connection I still have with the Iniquitus is strong, and in these times, I need their support more than ever."

The three exchanged uneasy glances, but nevertheless continued to press Monica for answers.

"Could you maybe tell us how we can save Kristen?" Nina asked. “You said you knew where some of the heralds do their work.”

"I do happen to know where some of the heralds lurk. I am not sure who Kristen is currently staying with, but I can give you some suggestions. The first place you could seek is the Caine manor. It’s a bit hidden in the woods, but it’s quite visible from a distance. You can’t miss it! It may look abandoned, but I assure you that Dr. Caine is busy working there, arranging funerals for the fallen. You might want to be careful by that place, though. Dr. Caine is not kind to trespassers.”

“Wait a second…” Hayley murmured. “I think I’ve seen it before! I saw it from the alleyway near the Universal Palace.”

“That happens to be my next suggestion, the old Universal Palace Theater. But I overheard that the head usher might have thoughts about the Zombie Awareness Program, not so very nice thoughts.”

“You got that right,” Ethan remarked with a scoff.

"But I can tell you that Julian is a very mysterious person. You never quite know his true nature, because he keeps it very well hidden. He can be vengeful, yes, but he is also one of the kindest, gentlest souls I know when he’s not on his herald duties. It's almost like he can change his personality at his own whim."

“But how do you know that?” Nina asked. “We’ve definitely seen Julian’s bad side when he came to ZAP. I was sure he _didn’t_ have a good side to him.”

Monica rummaged through a straw basket near her chair and fished out a ripped-up ticket stub to a screening of _The Wolfman_ , which she then brought up to Nina’s eyes.

“It helps to respect the theater for what she’s worth. If you do, then perhaps you’ll see a different side of the usher.”

“Huh, _The Wolfman_.” Nina took the ticket from Monica’s hands and examined the flimsy cardstock. “That’s an old movie, isn’t it?”

"Guys," Ethan said irritably, "I think we've got to start making our way out of here. I want to check on Eddie and see if his corpse is still there. That, and we need weapons. We don't have much time to sit around listening to conspiracy theories! The heralds are out to destroy us, and that's it. They aren't going to help us!"

“Ethan, give her time!” Hayley replied. “She actually seems to know stuff about the heralds!” She turned her attention back to Monica. “Do you know of any other places?”

“I do,” Monica replied, “but this place is more dangerous than the other two. You may have known it as one of those sweepstakes buildings near the edge of town, but now… rumor has it that Lady Luck herself resides there. Like I said, she is a very intelligent woman, but you never quite know when she’ll give you a subtle hint. But she can also play against your cards… or so I’ve been told.”

“So Lady Luck can actually be a good person?” Ethan asked incredulously. “There’s no way any of the heralds can be redeemed so quickly like that. They’re murderers!”

“Like I said, you never quite know. But if you want information out of her, you’re going to have to wager something. Luckily, she’s been kind to me the few times I’ve seen her around, despite our past competition. She’s helping the now homeless, the nearly dying. Like what ZAP used to do.”

"Then do you know what happened to my dad?" Hayley asked pleadingly. "His name is Tom. He's ZAP's founder.”

Monica lowered her head. "Unfortunately, your father was found dead not long after the heralds’ attack. I am so sorry, my child."

"No!" Hayley lost control of her breathing, holding back tears as Nina held her close, tears stinging in her eyes as well. Her worst fears were confirmed - not only was Kristen missing in action, but her father was dead. Her family was totally out of reach now, dead or far away.

Meanwhile, Ethan bottled up all the frustration and guilt he felt inside. Tom and George saved his life that one late summer night, in the middle of a dark thunderstorm. If it wasn't for their initially hesitant but warm gratitude, he would've still been living in a parentless, broken void, still getting thrashed around like some child's plaything. He received no love or even sympathy; it's why he had to run away. With George, Tom, and even Eddie to an extent, he received the fatherly support he never remembered getting at least once in his life.

His father hadn't been kind to him - he never was. Ethan always suffered his father's harsh words and beatings, a result of the heavy drinking he succumbed to. His mind was just as slurred as his words were, tainted to think of his son, his own flesh and blood, as a barrier to use. If he even opened his mouth to ask a question, he was knocked to the ground, spewing blood from his nose and occasionally, his mouth.

His stepmother didn't even try to intervene with her husband's cruelty. Sometimes, he could be just as bad as him, if not worse. Ethan considered that his father passed on his faulty actions to her. His biological mother died after giving birth to him, and every day, he reminded of this fact. So what better way to remind him than to have the step-bitch get in his face and blame him for his mother's death, all because she lost too much blood. She reddened up his body with scars and lashes, to try and see if he could lose just as much blood as she did. These were times Ethan struggled to block out of his mind, the times that still haunted him in his nightmares every single night.

But then, one night, his father and the step-bitch both went out together. Ethan could only imagine what it would be like when they got home, completely hammered and surprisingly free from the cops and an arrest for DUI. Knowing that this was his only time to escape, he stole some money, took a train, and ran away to Carey, eventually finding shelter at ZAP after killing a few wandering zombies with only his feet and his fists, to finally break free and fight off the pain. Although Tom was initially suspicious, Ethan was welcomed into ZAP like another member of the family in exchange for joining the Young Adult division. In fact, he was introduced as Kristen and Hayley’s cousin from Georgia, so his secrets were protected. He started training with Kristen the very next morning, and at once, she taught him the basics of everything she knew - knife-throwing, shooting tactics, even a little of wound-tending. Kristen was taught in the subject of survival against the undead nearly all her life, which made her an excellent teacher, and a snarky one to boot.

As Ethan spent more time with Kristen outside of lessons, like when they walked over to Milly's dinner and sipped milkshakes, he realized he was talking to the most beautiful, funniest girl he ever met. Something about Kristen's wit and generosity reminded him of the love he always wished for and never received. Granted, he knew it wasn't healthy to imagine Kristen as someone she possibly wasn't – and hell, she had a girlfriend already – but his fantasies always won in the end, when nobody was there to listen.

Yet, Ethan was nervous to tell Kristen his story, even while in the guise of her cousin. How would she react to the fact that he escaped and survived abuse at the hands of his own parents? Would she still like him then? He was planning on telling her sooner or later, when they were alone. But when the heralds arrived with a few of their own kind in tow, battle awaited, distracting Kristen. With the hundreds of Carey citizens hiding and needing their heroes, battle had usurped her.

And Ethan had lost the girl who changed his life.

“Ethan…” Nina sniffled between her sobs. “Are you… are you actually crying?”

It was true. For the first time in a while, tears were running down Ethan’s cheeks. He wanted to rage out and become the beast within him; he wanted to fight and slam all the heralds’ heads together, then cut them open like a dissection and throw their corpses into a marsh. They took the only girl in his life he actually cared for, just because she was fighting for her cause.

“You want to know something?” Ethan started to say, rage in his voice. “You want to fucking know something? Fuck Adaru, fuck Lady Luck, and fuck the heralds!” His scream echoed throughout the house. “I don’t care if they’re undead or not, I want them dead.” His sobs were coming back. “I just want Kristen back…”

Nina seemed taken aback by Ethan's outburst, but lowered her head down. "All of us do, Ethan."

“Dearie,” Monica said. She was still sitting with them.

“What?” Ethan found himself practically roaring.

“Sometimes, we have to let go and honor the fallen for what they’ve done. They’ve served their time, and fought bravely. Just like your friend.” She got up from the chair and headed back to the stairs. “I must go now. There are some people in my care that are losing their lives, and I must watch over their health. I hope I have given you enough information to aid you in your travels. I am sorry I had to reveal the state of the Zombie Awareness Program, but it was in my best thinking to do so.”

With that, Monica disappeared back upstairs without a single sound.

“I know Kristen’s still alive, bitch,” Ethan said under his breath with gritted teeth. “I’m sick of the false hope. I’m sick of the bad luck. We’re going to find her. And once we do, those damn heralds of fear will die.”

Ethan's heart started to beat rapidly as he remembered about Eddie's head, worrying about what would happen if anything happened to it. Quickly, though, he shrugged off his suspicions. _It's only Lady Luck playing games with my mind again,_ he thought.

But when he glanced down at his belt buckle, Eddie's head was gone.

“Where is it?” Ethan shouted in exasperation, bolting to his feet. “What happened to Eddie’s head?”

“I don’t know, Ethan!” Nina replied, slowly backing away from him.

“Oh, fuck!” Ethan began to pace around the living room, burying his hands in his dark hair. “Oh, fuck, we’re being played! I knew it! She was messing with us!”

“What are you talking about? She seemed harmless!”

Ethan headed for the staircase. “Stay with Hayley, Nina. I’m gonna go see if she’s hid Eddie’s head somewhere.”

But before Ethan could climb up the staircase, Monica returned, her hands empty and her white hair blowing in an invisible wind. Her eyes had turned from a dull brown to an unusually bright shade of green, one that reminded Ethan of playing cards fluttering in the wind and false pretenses under kindly guises.

“It’s her!” Ethan shouted. “I fucking knew it!”

The walls around them started to shake, the pastel, floral wallpaper beginning to peel on its own. Rotten, black walls became exposed as a blinding, green light engulfed the three, and as they realized just what kind of trap they had fallen prey to, they bolted out the front door, back into the dark, autumn chill.

"We've got to keep running!" Hayley cried. "It's not safe here!"

They continued to run down the street as Monica's house grew sentient and began to rot away, burning in a green flame that turned the house into nothing but smoking dust and ashes. A ghostly apparition in a green dress stood amongst the ruins, smiling to herself as the southern side of Carey fell victim to her power of mass destruction.

Nowhere really was safe anymore.

 


	10. You Oughta Be In Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristen becomes the star of Paulo's next demented feature presentation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is such a bitch! Anyway, I've been doing more work on this story and I'm _finally_ satisfied enough to start posting more chapters. Enjoy!

Kristen hadn't slept a wink. She was usually prone to insomnia, tossing and turning in her bed as nightmares plagued her mind. Ever since her mother died, she had become a victim to restless nights, staying up well into the early morning hours. Every time her eyes were closed, the same images seemed to play, visions of zombies jumping onto Mardi Gras floats and sinking their jagged teeth into mortal flesh and her mother running down the street, nearly being run over by an incoming, ignorant float. Someone had pushed her to safety - but little did she know that person only wanted to quench his thirst for blood. Kristen had seen the whole event unfold before her eyes, her Marlin shaking underneath her trembling arm as her father was off shooting the rest of the undead. In a way, she felt responsible. If only she had intervened sooner, none of this would have ever happened.

Occasionally, to distract herself from guilty thoughts, Kristen would get up to pace around her bed or go to the bathroom to clean the two open holes in her neck. She would look up at the mirror out of habit, but when she looked through the glass and saw nothing but the dark, damask-patterned wall behind her, her dead heart fell to her chest. Strengoits had to sacrifice their most humane characteristics, such as eating normal food and basking in the sun, in order to achieve their power and beauty. For Kristen, there'd be nothing but living in the darkness and feeding off of humans to survive now. Her soul, as well as her body, was dead. She declared it so in Adaru's cavern, but those were only brave words. She wasn't brave anymore, even if Alice suggested she at least try.

"Oh, stop it." Tears rolled down her cheeks yet again, and as they dripped into the white, porcelain sink beneath her, Kristen noticed, much to her horror, that her tears were actually blood, red streaks streaming down her face. Horrified, she grabbed a grotty brown washcloth to brush back her tears, but someone's cold hand fell atop her face, wiping the blood away with the pad of his calloused finger.

"Why are you here?" Kristen didn't even need to turn around to find out who had silently followed her into the bathroom.

"I noticed you weren't in your room," Paulo replied. "I wanted to check up on you and see if you were all right."

"Do you think I look all right?" Kristen numbly stared at the sink, watching the blood become one with the water and disappear down in the drain. "You know, I don't think it takes a short time for a Strengoit to accept who they are at first."

"Well, I'll agree with you on that. It's not easy to succumb to your thirst for blood, that's for sure. But without it, you'll be a sucked up, dry corpse on the side of the road. Do Lord Adaru proud and celebrate the kill. That's what Jack usually says. You'll feel much better now that you can kill the dying for a true purpose."

“I kill for no one but the weak and defenseless.” Kristen spun around and balled her hands up into fists. The Director was smiling a sickly, twisted grin, one that showed his slightly elongated teeth. “Not for a bunch of hungry corpses.”

Paulo suppressed a bitter laugh and traced his fingertips along Kristen's jaw. "I'd be worried if I were you, Kristen. You've got to be really careful around us now that you're our prisoner."

"Could you please stop telling me shit I already know? I don’t need another reminder." Kristen rubbed her wet eyes and winced when she saw her hands stained with a mix of blood and black makeup. "What time is it, anyway?"

"It’s almost dusk. Now, I've got business to do tonight, and you're coming with me. After all, I'm one who turned you, so technically, I'm free to do whatever I'd like with you."

“What, you’ve got a snuff film to shoot or something?”

“I recommend you _don’t_ call my work snuff, Kristen. My films are far from that.”

"Says the one who thinks sacrificing people like he's some Satan worshipper is going to get him anywhere."

Kristen dodged past Paulo and paced back to her bedroom. She sat by the armoire, her back facing the door, and tapped her dirt-stained fingernails against the table as she used her other hand to fiddle around with a makeup brush in her hand, lost in thought. Was this really going to be her life now? She would be some sort of demented film assistant at best, ushering people to Paulo so their souls could be stripped bare from their bodies. It was a quick, efficient way to kill someone, but with more souls being claimed each day, true sacrifices had to be made for the art.

Paulo's shoes hit the floor with a rubbery, soft squeak. Kristen didn't jump, but merely sat in place, even as Paulo approached her from behind and rested his cold breath against the nape of her neck. She didn't dare budge.

"Paulo, I need some... assistance.” She spoke to break the tension between them. “What do I look like?"

Paulo chuckled. "Would you really like to know?"

"I kind of need to know. I'm practically blind."

Paulo took Kristen's chin in his hand and tilted her head to face him. "Black hair, amber eyes, slightly ashen skin. You still have a bit of color but it's not going to last you for very long. Nevertheless you have a traditional Strengoit appearance, but on you it looks... sexier, in my honest opinion."

Kristen gritted her teeth. "You sick fuck. Do you really have to call your bait sexy?"

“The undead don’t really go for looks. They go more for how they kill the victim, how they survive in their legion. There isn’t really love among the undead. That is, unless you’re a Strengoit.”

"The legion of lovers," Kristen said jokingly.

"Well, we're known for being passionate, elegant, and seductive individuals. We'll do anything to satisfy our lust for blood. It happens to be the premise of my latest feature, but I'm afraid I'll have to skimp out on the details for now. My film shoot was scheduled to start at nine-fifteen, and it just so happened that we bumped into each other right when I was about to leave. I would've shot your scenes tomorrow night, but I unfortunately had to postpone my date with Fortuna tonight. Now would be a perfect time to do them."

Kristen raised an eyebrow. "What scenes? And where are we going?"

"To the Universal Palace, _milý_." Paulo clicked his tongue upon noticing Kristen’s hesitance. "I apologize, but the Palace is the only place where I'm obligated to shoot my films. You won't see too much of Julian. He keeps to himself quite a lot when he isn’t with the rest of us. After all, the star of my show deserves all the best. I’ll leave Anya and Alice to help you prepare.”

Kristen was left to comprehend what Paulo meant as he left the room and her servants walked in. Anya and Alice kept Kristen’s slept-in corset on and dressed her in a tight, black jacket with silver fastenings and a long, maroon skirt cut just below her knees. The crusty, old makeup from last night was wiped away and replaced with Alice's even more garishly done makeup - black around the eyes and red on the lips, from what Kristen could tell through her materials. Having no reflection peeved Kristen off to no end. How would she be able to judge if she looked good or not?

It didn't matter much though. Kristen knew she could trust Anya and Alice as confidantes rather than makeup artists, but even then, she was still worried for their current state of being. They were mute tonight, just carrying on with their work with not a single word. She thought she was making good acquaintances with them, laughing and joking around before last night's events. Now, they were more solemn, afraid. Anya kept looking at the slightly open door, peering her eyes through the crack, shuddering whenever Paulo's shadow blocked away even the smallest amount of light. Something must've happened between the two that Kristen didn't know.

“Guys, is there any reason why you’re so quiet tonight?”

No answer.

“Come on, you’re my only friends in this place!”

“It’s nothing,” Alice finally said as she tied Kristen’s hair into a high ponytail. “Anya’s really scared of Paulo, which is why she isn’t saying anything.”

“Why? Did he say anything before you guys came in here?”

“He _did_ threaten us with a beating if we said anything to you, so that’s why I’m quiet, too.”

"A _beating_?" Kristen's voice quivered.

Alice shushed her with a wave of her hand. "Please, don't bring it up. It’ll upset Anya.”

The girls resumed their silence as they handed Kristen black pantyhose and a pair of knee-high black boots to wear. After Anya brushed through Kristen’s ponytail one last time, burying her fingers through her hair like it would be the last time she’d ever see her, the two servants scurried out of the room without a goodbye.

“I feel so bad for them,” Kristen said to herself. “They’re stuck in this hellhole manor with people that take advantage of who they really are.”

Kristen found Paulo waiting by the top of the staircase, taking a hit off his cigarette. He let the ash drift off into the air as his pale eyes panned her up and down much like a camera lens, savoring the sight of his fledgling. Another toothy grin spread on his face.

"The servants dressed you well."

"Uh... thanks." Kristen desperately wanted to speak out against Paulo's treatment of Anya and Alice, but she knew it would be next to impossible without getting herself and the girls in huge trouble. For now, she kept her painted mouth shut.

"Hang on. You've still got some blood on your neck." Paulo stomped out his cigarette and gently brought Kristen close to him. He grabbed her chin and tilted back her head to examine the two holes in her neck, now stained with dry blood. His stubble scratched against her neck as his lips grazed the holes, his wet tongue lapping up the dry blood he craved. Kristen bit on her lip to stifle another scoff of disgust and grabbed onto the staircase ledge to steady herself. Paulo was quick to stop, latching off her as soon as he was done.

"Probably tastes terrible since it's dry," Kristen remarked.

"Almost the same taste as fresh blood would have. Now hurry up, I want to get to the Palace early to set up.”

Kristen ran past Paulo and pushed the doors of the Caine manor open, sighing happily as the smell of pine filled her nose. She had walked out into a thick forest clearing in front of the manor, with leafless trees of all different heights surrounding her. It fit the 'living in a horror movie' feel Kristen had for the past several months, and the cool, night breeze only added onto it. The autumn wind brought back memories of battles past, and even simpler times like when she and the comrades walked by the diner or jogged around town. She missed running through Carey's empty streets, with the cold air beating down on her sweating face. She missed the feel of the kill.

Paulo led Kristen to the back of the manor, to where his black Porsche was parked. Many discarded skeletons and bones were scattered around, left behind to rot into the earth. An inky black dog sniffing over the human remains caught Kristen's attention, especially as he began to gnaw on a scrap of bloodied flesh with his sharp canine teeth.

"Cindy must've fed him," Paulo muttered to himself.

The dog lifted its head up from the bones and stared at Kristen with its abnormal, red eyes. His fleshy treat fell from his mouth as he scratched his paws on her knees, barking loudly and not very kindly. Kristen didn't mind, being accustomed to all different kinds of dogs back when she worked at a doggie day care in New Orleans. This used to be an everyday thing for her.

"What a cute little dog!" Kristen admired, running her hand through the dog's velvety fur. "What is it, a Strengoit or something?"

“Not quite,” Paulo replied. “Caine found him somewhere in the western part of town. He must be a hybrid dog. Half Cerebin, half Strengoit. It’s possible.”

“It is?” Kristen asked. “You could be in half a legion, and half of another one?”

Paulo glared at her. “Forget I even said that. Car’s unlocked, go get inside.”

Kristen slipped her way into the front seat of the black 1998 Porsche, stroking the rubbery upholstery with her fingers. She had a potential escape method right underneath her nose, but she knew her attempts at driving would be rather futile. Her fingertips grazed against the steering wheel, but before she could even hop into the driver’s seat, Paulo opened the door, stopping her from making another move.

“I… uh… I was admiring your car,” Kristen said guiltily. “It’s nice, but you need an air freshener. It smells like corpses in here.”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Kristen,” Paulo said, placing his key in ignition. “I don’t think I need to warn you what will happen if any of us find out you’ve escaped.”

“Damn, you caught me,” Kristen said sarcastically. “I haven’t driven in a long time, actually, so that wouldn’t have been of any use. Zombie hunting’s been taking up my whole social life. I’ve got a girlfriend, though. We occasionally went out.”

Paulo raised his eyebrows. “More like you _had_ a girlfriend.”

Kristen gave Paulo a look of disgust. “I know she’s still alive somewhere. Don’t give me false hope just yet.”

The road trip to the Universal Palace was a bumpy ride, at least the part when they left the Caine manor and Paulo drove on a downward slope of a dirt pathway. They passed along the countryside road as the final rays of dusk faded away, replaced by a starless, night sky, all while the Caine manor faded away from view. It was almost relaxing to Kristen, her prison being out of reach. Yet, she had no idea which part of Carey it was in, if it was even in Carey for that matter. The Palace could be either ten or forty-five minutes away.

Kristen spent most of the trip staring out of the window while Paulo played an old horror movie broadcast show on the radio. “Now then, boys and girls,” a man doing a horrible Dracula impression said over the airwaves, “this next feature is one of my favorites! It’s about when boy meets ghoul, but the boy discovers that his ghoul isn’t all that she seems to be… it’s _Valentine’s Day 2: The Recurrence!_ ”

“That damn Morphan is never going to get a career,” Paulo muttered. He switched the station over to one that played “Sweet Dreams” by Marilyn Manson, albeit with lots of static. Kristen sang along in her head as she continued to stare out of the window, recognizing places she used to pass on her longer missions. Aiello and Mannarino Clothiers, the Meetz Meats meat factory, WKNB Station, home of _The H.R. Bloodengutz Show_. So the Caine manor was indeed somewhere close to Carey, at least the more-urbanized area.

“So, what’s this movie of yours about?” Kristen asked during an instrumental lull in the music.

“The plot’s rather simple,” Paulo replied. “It is about how death can take over us in all different ways, whether it’s through torture or other means. In the end, it’s all linked through Fear.”

“That’s pretty deep,” Kristen remarked. “Sounds like this one obscure horror movie I watched a while back. The only thing was that it was silent and I couldn’t even make out the message. That and it was totally black and white. I forgot the name of it, but it reminds me of the type of shit you make.”

“I find it pretty amusing how you’re joking on the subject matter when you just died earlier, Kristen. You haven’t even seen any of my films, so who are you to dissent? But soon, you will know true cinema, films that have no limits. And to add to your statement, the film you’re referring to is called _Begotten_. It was rather interesting, actually.”

“Of course a sadist like you enjoyed that pretentious art crap.”

Eventually, about ten minutes later, Paulo and Kristen arrived at the Universal Palace. Kristen got out of the Porsche and took her time to observe the theater, initially not having much of the gall to step close to it. It appeared rather aged, with a vintage Art-Deco design harkening back to the roaring twenties. The marquee bore only horror movie titles: _The Wolfman_ , _Bride of Frankenstein_ , and _The Phantom of the Opera_. From the side, she could see the ticket booth, and in it stood a familiar usher who turned to face her the moment she shut the door.

Julian gazed in her direction, never keeping his eyes off of her. Kristen couldn’t detect what his look was supposed to read of – sympathy, pity, or his usual vengeance? The usher slowly flicked his flashlight on and off, turning his head slightly to watch Paulo emerge from out the Porsche. The bitter hatred in the usher’s mismatched eyes was evident. It appeared he held the same kind of disgust for the director, most likely being aware of his murderous films.

“We’ve got no time for reminiscing,” Paulo told Kristen, tightly holding her wrist to lead her to the theater. “I’m already running behind schedule and my actors have been waiting for hours!”

“Hours?” Kristen repeated in confusion. “Don’t tell me you pulled off squatters from the side of the road.”

“My tastes are a little more sophisticated than that.”

They passed by Julian's ticket booth and walked into the lobby. Kristen remembered its layout, with the black gate leading to Adaru's cavern somewhere near the concession stand. Jay stood solemnly by some cases of candy, his back to Kristen as he organized the boxes by color. How had he dealt with his sudden, Strengoit method turning? His posture seemed to be straighter than the typical Kerezan's and judging by his exposed hands, his skin tone had merely gotten a shade or two lighter.

“Jay!” Kristen approached the concession stand with a smile on her face. “Man, am I glad to see you. How’s everything been going—“

Jay turned on his heel, gazing up at Kristen with bright, yellow eyes. A gruesome, bloody streak grazed Jay's face from ear-to-ear, giving him a permanent smile. The sides of his cheeks were ripped open by an inch or two, exposing his white teeth, as if fish hooks pried open his mouth. He remained silent, but his eyes went wide as he recognized Kristen, giving a small wave.

“Don’t tell me Julian did this to you,” Kristen told Jay, horrified. Surprisingly, he shook his head in disagreement.

“Julian would never do such a thing,” Paulo replied, resting his hand against Kristen’s shoulder. “It was actually _my_ work. See, Julian let Jay be in a scene for my film. A few years ago, I made a film entitled _Clowns Are Always Laughing on the Outside but Crying on the Inside, So Let’s See,_ in which I had a court jester smile for me through fish hooks. It was quite symbolic… showed the genuine struggles he was going through while he was always portraying a happy clown. So, for my new film, I wanted to show that same scene, but through a depressed Kerezan who just wanted to keep his mortality. Needless to say, it was perfection. He looks even deader now, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re sick,” Kristen hissed in anger, bringing up a fist. “He did absolutely nothing to you, and you had to go and do _that_?”

“Again, Julian allowed it.” Paulo gently lowered her fist down. “Supposedly, young Jay insulted his lady… and to let you know, Julian’s lady happens to be the theater itself.”

“Don’t you mean ‘herself?’ You ought to use the right pronouns when you’re here.”

“Julian can’t hear me, can he? Then neither can the theater. That man is delusional when it comes to love. Now come on, my actors are waiting.”

Kristen rested her hand against Jay's, a gesture of sympathy. She then collected her skirts and reluctantly followed Paulo into one of the auditoriums upstairs, presumably the biggest of them all. The white canvas screen was pulled back to the ceiling, revealing remnants of the Palace's opera house days - ropes, sandbags, even a fly-floor. There was even a large stage left over, where three torture devices stood, occupied by three actors hysterically crying for help and shaking in their limited positions the moment they saw Kristen enter the room.

"Who... who are these people?" Kristen asked nervously. She focused on a young woman strapped into an iron maiden, sniffling and trembling. A scrap of cloth was tightly wrapped around her mouth, muffling her cries. Kristen recognized her from somewhere, sometime before the undead took over her life. But where exactly?

"Method actors," Paulo simply replied as they descended down the aisle and into the front row of seats. "They're really getting into their roles, aren't they? I want only the best for my films."

"Doesn't look like it to me," Kristen replied worriedly.

The other two 'method actors' were young men. A boy with a stocky yet muscular build was suspended in the air, locked in a harness hanging from the rafters; his exposed arms were extended out like a bird's wings by two metal bars behind him. Garish gray and black greasepaint was slathered all over his arms, chest, and face, and he wore a costume of black, tattered feathers, symbolizing nothing but humiliation and a desperate need to break free. The other man, distinguishable by his faded, ginger hair, was down on his knees, his wrists and ankles shackled behind him. His forehead rested against a thick cinderblock, while a sharp, angled blade hung from above him.

These people weren’t just method actors. They were the outlandish girl who genuinely believed that the undead would reign, always hiding from Kristen whenever she passed her in the hallway. The jock from the nearby high school that called her degrading nicknames in the grocery store, always calling her ‘zombie fucker’ and ‘fresh meat.’ The ex-boyfriend who mocked her consistently, even spreading nasty rumors regarding her belief in zombies amongst the citizens of Carey.

But despite how these people degraded her, Kristen knew they were still people. This wasn't revenge Paulo had in mind. This was pure sadomasochism. He was purely the vilest of all the heralds, stealing away innocent lives for his own creations. And not only innocent lives, but innocent lives she was familiar with.

“Now, Kristen, your role…” Paulo began. “You are a vampire out for blood. But, you’ve decided that the simple bite of the neck wouldn’t do you any good. You want to be creative with your kills! First, we’ve got Jessica in the iron maiden. You’ve researched all different types of torture devices, and the iron maiden interested you first… old, yet useful. Then, you’ve got Tyler dressed in my version of the fallen angel. Humiliation is one of my favorite tactics for my films, so I do it by dressing my actors in costumes.” Paulo stopped when he saw Kristen staring at Jessica in pity. “Are you keeping up, Kristen?”

“I’m trying.” She replied through gritted teeth, her terrified, helpless gaze at the victims unaffected.

“And finally, we have your old boy Dustin seconds away from being decapitated by good old Madame Guillotine. Julian wouldn’t let me bring a bathtub into the theater, so the guillotine had to do. It was a last-minute decision.”

Kristen realized she had no choice but to play along and actually _kill_ these suffering people. She couldn’t take the heralds’ torture anymore. Who knows, they might even reward her with something if she showed that she finally crumbled. But if she kept on being submissive to them, they would keep on stealing her fear and laugh at her suffering.

She had to rebel again, somehow.

“Are you ready for your film debut, Kristen? Remember, this isn’t just for me or for you. This is also for Lord Adaru. He needs souls, remember? Now that you’re in the ranks of the Strengoit legion, you have to obey his orders and help him claim his power. We must show him our clan is stronger than the Morphans and the Baccanoids. Come on, killing your first victim for blood isn’t hard. It’s more of an adventure!”

Paulo words of persuasion, and the screams and cries of the victims flooded Kristen’s mind like a maelstrom, ringing in her ears. She wasn’t going to kill these people for the demon, and drinking blood was out of the question. No matter how strong the heralds’ torture was going to get, or what words they were going to use against her, Kristen would risk it all by fighting back the urge to crumble and serve.

“Everybody just…” The screams and persuasions grew in intensity, stinging Kristen’s head. “Everybody… just… shut up!”

The pleas and persuasions stopped at once, but with the silence came a gravelly voice that Kristen could only her in her head, yet her ears perked up.

“Kill them, Kristen. They will make you stronger. You are not their savior anymore. Kill for _us!_ ”

 “Shut up!” Kristen shrieked, covering her ears. “You mean nothing to me!”

“How wrong you are,” Adaru’s voice continued to rumble in her head. “Perhaps out of everybody, I believe I mean more to you than _anybody else_ _now._ ”


	11. Non Compos Mentis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is possibly the greatest scene of Paulo Ravinski's career is filmed; someone helps Kristen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH WOW, I UPDATED? AFTER ALMOST A YEAR?
> 
> I've had writer's block specifically for this fic for an excruciatingly long time, but I've finally gotten around to finishing this chapter. I might go back in and make more edits (not just to this chapter, but the rest of the fic as well), but for now here's what I have. Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and if you're interested in roleplaying, Kristen's got her [own blog](http://www.zcmbiegeddon.tumblr.com)! Feel free to ask her questions on Tumblr.

Trembling, Kristen gazed out into the empty audience, her eyes blinded by the bright spotlights above her. She zeroed in on Paulo as he watched the scene unfold in anxious anticipation, his stubbly chin propped against his hand. _Tap, tap._ Atop the armrest, his fingertips created an anxious rhythm that nearly overpowered the loud whirring of his camera.

"W-what do you want me to do?" Kristen’s voice was now frail and meek, like a child’s. "I-I don't know—“

"Do _something_!" Paulo hissed. "Don't just stand there!"

"Kristen..." The cloth on Jessica’s mouth fell off, allowing her to speak clearly. "Kristen, do you remember me from freshman year? Jessica Adkins, from psychology class? I’m… I'm really sorry for acting out like I did. I... I wanted to be your friend, but sometimes your zombie stuff got overwhelming, you know?"

"Overwhelming doesn't cut it," Kristen said harshly, although she didn't mean to sound cruel. "I only wanted to help people, but people think _I’m_ the villain.”

"I'm so sorry for what I said to you, Kristen!" Tyler, the fallen angel, spoke net. "Just get me out of here! I’ll join ZAP if you want me to!”

"ZAP is dead!" Something, or in Kristen’s case, _someone_ was beginning to take over her thoughts, poking and prodding every abscess in her brain.

Dustin had no words. He continued to sob hysterically, banging his forehead against the cinderblock hopelessly. He, like Tyler, usually joked around when it came to the genuine threat of the undead. Although he was once a good friend of Kristen’s, Dustin sometimes went out of the way to make disgusting jokes about zombies wanting to do horrible, degrading things to her, more than just eat her. Ever since her mother died, Kristen could never get the jokes out of her head, despite shrugging them off with a laugh. The pain was just too real to joke about.

"Do you notice a trend here, Kristen?" Paulo rose from his seat and swiped his camera off his tripod. "I chose these three for some... extra motivation, if you will. I figured that you'd be able to kill the ones who mocked you and degraded you so easily. Vengeance changes a person, you know. You fail to understand what your vision is now! To feed and thrive on mortality! You're not human anymore. Release your inhibition and kill for me!"

"I can't!” Kristen shrieked, covering her ears with her hands. “You can’t make me!”

"Foolish mortal!" Adaru roared inside Kristen’s mind. A brief, bright flash of light engulfed her vision, as if the demon slapped her cheek with his brambly hand. "You will give these mortals what they deserve!"

"No, I won't! I can't kill innocent people! It's not right!"

"Then I shall show you what it is like to become victim to fear!”

A crooked smile spread on Paulo’s face. The scene was set, the actors were in their places. This would be the scene to triumph over all.

“Action.”

Kristen blinked, staring at Paulo in utmost confusion. Then, a burning sensation shot up her spine, temporally immobilizing her, seizing control of her body. She fell to her knees as her body writhed like a snake's on the stage, and she tugged at her hair to try and fight the demon out of her body. Adaru's invisible grip thrust her back as he further reached into her body, taking up every crevice of her soul and mind.

“I… I can’t see!” Kristen’s eyes rolled in the back of her head, leaving her dizzy as she used her hands to feel her way around the stage. “Somebody help me! I can’t see!”

"Look in the camera, Kristen!” Paulo bolted out of his seat and carried his camera onto the stage, filming Kristen in his frenzy. “Tell us! What is happening to you now?”

"He's... Adaru’s taking control of me!" Kristen gripped the edge of the stage, her knuckles growing pale. "I... I can't push him away!"

"Let him take over you, Kristen! This is what I want! This is true art! The purest of all sacrifices!”

As if a jolt of electricity coursed through her veins and brought her back to life, Kristen leapt to her feet as her head continued to roll around, not of her own doing. Her black hair hung in her now solely white eyes, her amber irises completely gone. Her posture, once lanky with slightly hunched shoulders, had become straighter and more dignified, as if she was someone of a regal status. An evil smile spread on Kristen's face, one that read to be too malicious and not one that the fighter would usually wear, for she was, at the moment, no longer Kristen Romero.

She was now Fear incarnate.

With a staggered walk, Kristen approached the guillotine and tugged on the frayed rope hanging from the rafters, sending the angled blade hurdling down toward Dustin's neck. He let out a hysterical, piercing scream as the blade plummeted into the middle of his neck, detaching his head from his body with one simple swipe. A spray of blood spurted from the bloody stump where Dustin’s head once lay, spilling out like water from a faucet.

Jessica and Tyler squirmed and screamed from their traps, begging for the real Kristen to return. If Adaru wasn't able to ascend to mortal ground just yet, he would bide his time waiting in Kristen's body, using every moment he had to torture the living, if only for a few minutes at a time. He now controlled her every move, her every step as she lumbered across the stage like a living marionette freed from its strings, unable to move her limbs normally.

"Kristen, just let me go, please!" Jessica sobbed, banging her fist against the cool, metal hollow behind her. "I'm begging you!"

"I want your blood, mortal." Adaru and Kristen's voices had come together as one, a deep, frightening cacophony.  "I want _all of it._ "

"Please, Kristen..." Jessica hung her head, sending wisps of brunette hair in her eyes. "Just end my suffering, please."

Kristen grabbed Jessica's throat and pricked the delicate flesh of her neck with her fangs, sending a thin stream of blood down the mortal's neck and down her chest. A mere sip was not enough to satisfy the demon's insatiable appetite, however, so he lurched Kristen's body forward, forcing her to ravenously dig right into Jessica's neck, taking in a mouthful of meat and strings and blood.

“Beautiful, Kristen!” Paulo exclaimed, rising from his seat to film a close-up. “This is exactly what I want! Real blood, real fear! Pure, endless suffering to earn the Strengoit legion’s victory!”

"Kristen, cut this shit out!" Tyler shouted. Black tears streamed down his face as he shook in his harness, unable to free himself. "Don't listen to what the asshole down there says, just let me out! Please!"

Startled by Tyler's cries, Kristen stepped back from Jessica's pale corpse and slammed the door of needles right into her body, letting them puncture her skin as she became permanently sealed within the bloody chamber. She then approached Tyler, watching as he dangled helplessly from the rafters, like a crippled bird stuck in a tree.

"You aren't going anywhere, Icarus.” The Fear incarnate was not one to listen to cries for mercy. “Let us see your final flight!"

In the wings, Paulo twisted a crank around, sending Tyler higher up in the air. As the fallen angel ascended, the metal poles hooked into his back tore into his skin, ripping off a thick sliver of skin on each side, hanging limp from his back like broken wings. Tyler's agonized screams filled the air, making Kristen's possessed body quiver in something that was not quite fear or even satisfaction.

At the same time, Kristen felt something release from her body, something that slithered out to leave her empty and bare and, disturbingly enough, fully aware of her macabre surroundings in her own point of view.

Kristen dared herself to look up. A hanged, freshly deceased corpse met her sight, blood dripping down into a thin puddle near her feet. She could only stand frozen, horrified by the gruesome sight hanging above her. While she was 'away', Tyler had transformed into a disgusting plaything for the demon, brutally mangled in the most obscene of ways. How could the human body be so gruesomely modified, Kristen thought, and by the hands of sadists? She wasn't able to wrap her mind around the idea at all.

Then, she saw the iron maiden, scarlet and hollow and metal. Kristen slowly placed her hand on the cold door and opened it ajar, finding a pale corpse drained bloodless and punctured with holes streaming with Jessica's last ounces of blood. Covering her mouth to suppress a gag, Kristen had no choice but to approach her former friend and lap up the last of her blood on her tongue, to satisfy her required fill.

"You were perfect, Kristen.” A surprisingly gentle hand grabbed her shoulder, guiding her away from Jessica. “Your performance was exactly what I envisioned for the role... and my vision."

"Fuck your visions!" Kristen sharply turned to confront the Director. "Look what you made me do! I'm becoming what you want me to be!"

"Sacrifice always involves taking risks," Paulo replied, unaffected by Kristen's cries. "Death is a sacrifice I'm willing to risk in the name of film. In death, there is freedom... freedom to be whoever you wish to be. That's why I chose you, Kristen. I sensed potential in you, and you have fully delivered."

"No, I didn't!" Kristen pushed Paulo away with her bloodstained hands. "It was Adaru! He..." Tears prickled in her eyes. "He made me do this!”

"Yes, but didn't it feel good? Satisfying, even? Killing for our cause is no different than you slaughtering the Kerezans out in the streets, further angering our master. Admit it, Kristen.” Paulo moved away the hair hanging in Kristen’s eyes. “You savored every second."

“What makes you think that? I wasn’t even myself… I didn’t even know…”

“It wasn’t just Adaru, Kristen. Your lust for blood finally caught up to you. Not to say it already has, but your lust for _human_ blood has empowered you. I’ll admit, it’s hard for a fledgling Strengoit to admit that at first. But now that you’re with me… I’ll help you.”

“Hh-how?” Kristen’s voice cracked.

“Like this.”

Paulo brought Kristen's body close to his and fiercely kissed her lips, running his hands along her face. The pit of Kristen's stomach ached and her head stung, mortified by the Director's sudden affection for her. She may have crushed on him, but know she knew just how fucked up he and his visions were. His blood flowed through her veins. Technically, she wasn't just his prisoner, but... something else that Kristen would rather get shot in the head for than to live out for the rest of eternity.

"No!"

Paulo leapt away from Kristen's lips. Lady Luck herself stood some feet away from them, her eyes wide in heartbreak.

"F-Fortuna!" Paulo pushed Kristen away from him and rushed to the goddess's side. "Oh, Gods, Fortuna... I am so sorry."

"You've betrayed me!" Luck slashed her red nails into Paulo's left cheek. "Don't you remember that we're mates? Destined to never leave each other? You're kissing the rebel girl like she's a common street whore!"

"I..." Blood dripped down Paulo's cheek. "Fortuna, I..."

Luck let out a guttural growl as she painfully transformed into her succubus form, her face contorting and her fangs sliding out from underneath her upper lip. She confronted not Paulo, but Kristen, tackling her to the floor and ripped off her jacket, exposing her breasts.

"Get off!" Kristen cried, digging her fingernails into the black linoleum surface of the stage. She rose out a foot to kick Luck off her, but the goddess in her succubus state was immune to any sort of pain. "He latched onto me! I didn't do anything!"

"You're his fledgling!" Luck hissed, scratching the area in between Kristen's eyes. "How am I to believe you? He's done this with everybody!"

Paulo retrieved his camera and propped it onto the tripod. Excitedly, he adjusted the angle so that he filmed in Kristen's direction, focusing mainly on her quivering body.

As Kristen screamed in pain, she knew she needed to alert somebody, and fast. In the Universal Palace, who could she possibly scream for? She didn't know any of the ushers, and Jay possibly couldn't intervene unless he wanted to receive more fatal injuries. There was only one person Kristen knew who worked here, someone she couldn't trust... someone she feared with every fiber of her being.

The doors of the auditorium opened with a burst, light flooding in from the lobby. A looming figure illuminated by a beam of light steadily walked down the aisle, passing the seats until he eventually reached the stage, throwing Luck off of Kristen.

"What do you think you're doing?" Luck asked the figure bracingly. "Get your hands off me!"

All the action around Kristen blurred, but once she regained her vision, she was stunned to see the very last person she thought would come to her aid and break up a fight for her.

"You two," Julian said icily to Paulo and Luck, pointing a finger at each of them, "are to leave my theater at once."

"But we—“ Paulo began to explain.

"I do not want to hear a single word about your... exploitation films," Julian said in disgust. "You ruin the sacred art of cinema, Ravinski, and I will not allow you to shoot your demented films within my theater any longer. What you are doing is wrong. This is not the way to..." He eyed the corpses of the three victims. "Dispose of mortality."

"Don't you remember Adaru's task for us, Julian?" Paulo asked Julian, taking a step toward the usher. "We must claim mortal souls for Fear to be revealed. This is what he wants! Real pain, real suffering. This is artistic justice being put to good use."

Julian slowly shook his head. "Those are different matters. You kill just to kill, without the slightest thought as to why they deserve to die. And don't give me method acting as an excuse."

"Does sacrifice ring a bell to you?"

"Even sacrifice involves precise thought, which unfortunately, you seem to lack. Stop trying to satisfy yourself with your films, Paulo... they aren't even that good, anyway. Get out of my theater. _Now._ "

"We will speak later, Julian," Luck told the usher coldly. She brought Paulo close to her and linked her arm with his, escorting him off the stage with a click of her heels. "Come, Kristen."

Kristen stumbled back onto her feet, glancing over at the corpses of her former classmates one more time. Tears prickled in her eyes. None of them deserved this, all for how they acted toward her. It wasn't her fault that Adaru decided to possess her, but a part of her made her feel guilty for being vulnerable to the demon's power.

A gloved hand gently grabbed her bare shoulder. Kristen turned to see Julian; his eyes no longer filled with his usual cold malice, but rather were soft with sympathy. His face even trembled a bit, as if merely touching her was an act of rebellion within itself.

"You saved me," Kristen said in a whisper. "Why?"

Julian didn't answer. Instead, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around Kristen's shoulders. Slowly, she sank into the sleeves and clutched the halves against her chest. The velvet was cold but soft, brushing against her skin like a lover's caress. She would've been freaked out at the usher's sudden kind gesture, but after a day or two of being treated like scum by the heralds, this was a refreshing change.

"You're hurt," Julian said softly, watching the blood run down her cheeks.

"Don't worry about it." Kristen slid her finger along a blood streak and brought it to her lips. "I need the blood anyway."

Julian shook his head and pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket on his gray trousers. He wiped away the blood and tears staining Kristen's face, letting his gloved hand rest atop her cheek for a moment.

 _The usher’s only doing this to redeem himself_ , Kristen thought. _This is just his sick form of infatuation. He stole my career, my family, and my freedom, and now he’s got the right to fawn over me?_

"Kristen." Paulo’s voice echoed menacingly across the auditorium. "You can't stay here forever. This is a _Kerezan's_ property."

"You can stay if you want."

Julian's whisper shocked Kristen. The look in his eyes practically pleaded with her to stay, a far cry from the death threat that started all this chaos. It would be safer to be in the theater than back in the Caine manor, but Kristen knew it wouldn't be wise to trust Julian so quickly. After all, he probably just protected her since his theater was being disrespected. He just wanted to claim ownership of her to make her life more of a living hell.

“I’m sorry,” Kristen whispered. “I’d like to stay, but…” Her sentence was left hanging.

Julian nodded his head slowly, sadly, receiving the memo. Kristen started to take off the jacket, but he stopped her.

“You can keep it, if you wish. I have spares.”

Kristen quietly whispered a 'thank you', and jumped offstage to follow Paulo and Luck back to her new life of seclusion and depression. She glanced over at Jay arranging boxes of candies into towers that promptly toppled down. Kristen shot him a soft smile. If she ever returned to the theater, she would spend a lot more time with this concessions worker, to let him know that he had a friend.

Paulo grabbed Kristen's wrist tightly. "I don't want you trusting Julian, or any of the other Kerezan scum that work here. Kerezans are worthless, Kristen. If there's one thing you've done right, it was exterminating them. Trust me, when Adaru is revealed, all of them will perish."

Kristen's mind stung with guilt again. In a habitat where they felt safe, the Kerezans appeared to be harmless, including Julian. He saved her from her own legion! The thought formed a seed of curiosity in Kristen's mind. In the undead society, did one legion care about themselves, or the others? Was it really man against man?

Julian returned from the screening room, blood on his gloves. He shook his head slowly, staring at Luck and Paulo with eyes that usually read of the element of fear he personified. When his eyes shifted over to Kristen, his eyes softened, looking at her with an almost tearful glimmer. The usher certainly didn't have second thoughts about her now, did he? She didn't even want to know. In her eyes, he was still a traitor, even if he did some crazy act to try and redeem himself. But something inside of Kristen made her _want_ to be with Julian, and learn more about him and his kind. Anything was better than being stuck with descendants of the vampires, especially vain ones like Luck and Paulo.

“I know precisely what you’re thinking, Kristen.” Luck said coolly, distracting Kristen from her gaze on the Universal Palace’s marquee. “You’ve made the wrong choice once again. Well, I am sorry to inform you, but I can only _lead_ you to your choices now. I cannot help you make them. You’re far too unworthy for my assistance now.”

But what choice had she made wrong?


	12. Blood, Sweat, and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina, Ethan, and Hayley make it to their next destination; Nina undergoes a challenge.

A group of costumed young Morphans stood at the bend of the road separating the southern half of Carey from Main Street, exchanging candies and snacks they looted from abandoned houses. Being so young and craving nothing but sugar, finding junk food proved to be a difficult task. Thankfully, stale bags of Halloween candy and bags of potato chips were plentiful, especially in the Zombie Awareness Program's base.

Miranda, a cat-masked young girl, observed the trade deal as she waited by the lamppost, watching silently for any rebels that might walk by. Being the most vulnerable of the group, she was put on guard duty as a way to 'toughen her up', said the leader of the group, a boy wearing a tiger mask and an astronaut costume. Really, though, she was frightened of anything - the dark, the rest of the legions, and even the heralds. Jack, the leader of all Morphans, terrified her the most. Although she hadn't met him face to face, the clown haunted her nightmares every night.

"What’s the matter, Miranda?” The Tiger Astronaut grabbed the girl’s shoulders, making her jump. “Scared of the weak little mortals?”

"No!" Miranda squeaked, hiding her eyes with her pumpkin bucket. "I... I just don't like their guns. They're scary!"

"Their guns can't hurt us!" Tiger Astronaut replied. "They don't even have them, anyway! I heard Jack and Chance took them all."

"Shh!" Miranda brought a finger to her lips. "I think I see someone.”

Nina, Ethan, and Hayley returned to Main Street, still wary and precautious of their surroundings. A lot happened in the course of twenty-four hours, mainly the sudden disappearance of Eddie's head and the harsh truths delivered by Madame Monica. After the mysterious fire that engulfed the abandoned house they briefly called territory, they resumed their trek to RUN on foot, struggling for what felt like days on end. Time moved slowly in a world plagued by the undead, when really it'd been only four hours.

Catching sight of the Morphans, Nina turned her head in Miranda's direction and playfully snarled at her, showing her pearly white teeth. Miranda yelped and turned her back, cowering right into the lamppost. The Iniquitus always said that innocence is a Morphan's greatest strength. Their childish wonder and charm lured in their victims just as easily as a Strengoit's power of seduction. Perhaps a Morphan's innocence was their weakness, too. Strong in body but weak in spirit; their naivety detracted them from their ultimate task, and ultimately, their pure psyche made them oblivious to the struggles of an adult. Morphans may be loathed, but mortals sometimes forgot that the undead were once people in control of their minds, and in some, emotions still ran rampant.

“You missed them, Miranda!” Tiger Astronaut said angrily as the three rebels walked away from the Morphans. “Stop being such a crybaby!”

“I didn’t want them to hurt me!” Miranda cried.

“Whatever,” Tiger Astronaut said with a groan. “We’ll get them sooner or later.”

A glade of thick fog loomed across the pathway leading to the RUN warehouse. Overnight, the Maschorians arrived, vandalizing the building using the stored blood of their victims. 'Maschorian Territory' was written across the granite walls, and scorpions with dripping tails covered the metal door. One word stuck out in between the praises of the Maschorian legion, however - 'Rebel Scum.' The most violent of Adaru's legions were aware of Eddie's role as a defect, and sworn by vengeance, they would not forget the loss of their greatest asset.

"Do you think we should go in?" Hayley asked nervously, pulling a loose thread from her orange sweater.

"The Maschorians probably just did their thing with the front," Ethan replied, his brow crinkling at the gruesome graffiti. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

The three then ventured into the warehouse. Thankfully, the Maschorians barely touched the inside, leaving behind the mysterious contraptions and dusted-over chainsaws. Eddie's blood had dried, staining the wooden floors, but there was no sight of his headless corpse.

"Shit, they got his body," Ethan remarked in disdain as he kneeled down at the thick blood stain. "Goddamn Maschorians. Always quick on their feet."

"They were going to find it sooner or later, Ethan," Nina tried to reason with him.

"But what use do people have for a headless corpse?” Ethan asked rhetorically, throwing his arms up in his confusion. “What, are they gonna dance with it?”

Nina giggled. "That sounds like something the Caretaker would do. You know, with his balls and stuff."

Ethan failed to hold back a chuckle. "Well, I guess that's it, then. All right guys, let's find some weapons. Eddie's got a decent stash of spare guns and blades, so hopefully we'll find something."

Several minutes passed of futile searching through crates and shelves filled mostly with spare machine parts and nothing feasible to serve as a weapon. All Nina found was scrap metal or dull knives from some kind of kitchen set. Occasionally, a chainsaw chain or some gun ammo showed up within the boxes, but with RUN's weapon inventory totally wiped out, they were useless.

"Let me guess, the legions wiped this place clean, too?” Nina sighed. “You were right, Ethan. Those Maschorians are tricky people. I can't seem to find anything worth using here!"

“But a knife can be something,” Hayley replied, recalling her beloved survival guide. “Unlike a gun, blades don’t need reloading. A knife can be just as useful as a pistol or a crossbow.”

“But it’s too basic!” Nina exclaimed in frustration. “It’s just a knife, whoop-dee-do. It’s not like it’s going to get the kill done any faster! And besides, all these knives are dull. It wouldn’t even go through flesh!”

“You know, Hayley’s got a point,” Ethan said as he placed another box down on the floor. “You’ve seen most of the greatest zombie movies before. And in some of them, the heroes don’t even use anything fancy like guns! Remember when Shaun used a cricket bat to knock out that whole horde of zombies? Or when Tallahassee smashed a zombie’s head with nothing but his banjo?”

“Like I would kill a zombie with a banjo,” Nina retorted with a snort.

“Still, though. We can’t just be relying on the bigger stuff all the time! What if we run out of ammo? You can’t really find much ammo lying around anymore. That, and gas for the saws. That’s why I realized using the old thing for every mission wasn’t worth it. Face it, finding any useful resource would be a miracle right now. Those damn legions seized everything because they know the survivors are looking for them.”

Nina rose to her feet to retrieve another box from one of the shelves. As she brushed back loose strands of her curly black hair, she noticed a metal door in the farthest corner of the warehouse. She didn't recall ever seeing it before, but maybe the darkness and neglect hid it well enough.

"Maybe some of Eddie's spare weapons are in there," Nina murmured to herself.

But suspicion took control of her again. This place hid many secrets, and Eddie even more so. Ethan always spread rumors of Eddie's alliance, but Kristen quickly shot them down. He said that Eddie was once a madman, an insane sadist who ran a murder-for-hire business called 'Hostile Territory.' People paid Eddie to do practically anything they wanted with a collection of victims. Dismemberment, flaying, and even murder were all on the menu.

The thought sent shivers down Nina's spine. But with time came change. But how could sadists change in the blink of an eye? Was it for their satisfaction or a step in the right direction? Eddie had always been kind to the comrades of ZAP, so she found it hard to believe Ethan's stories. This was just an old warehouse of Eddie's where he kept his junk, and that was that.

“Nina, what are you doing?”

Startled by Ethan's question, Nina froze in her tracks. In the middle of her thoughts, she gravitated closer to the mysterious door, not even aware she moved an inch.

"You didn't tell me Eddie had another room, Ethan!" Nina said. "Maybe he saved some weapons for us!" She turned around and wrapped her hand around the handlebar; she's too close to retreat. "I'm gonna go check."

"Nina, no!" Ethan sprinted to the door as if it were on fire.

"What's going on?" Hayley asked, rising from her spot on the floor.

"Hayley, whatever you do, stay out here," Ethan warned her. "I've got to stop—“

Nina closed the door in Ethan's face and shook her head. Why was there a need to be scared? Eddie's malicious secrets were only rumors.

"A little light can help." Nina rested her hand against the door to push it back open, but as she did, an electric shock raced through her palm and up her arm. “ _Ow, mierda!_ Ethan?” She flailed her hand to shake out the pain and used her foot to kick the door. “A little help here, please?”

“He ain’t gonna help you, girlie,” said a throaty voice from behind her.

Gasping, Nina faced the opposite direction and saw five burly Maschorian men dressed in sleeveless plaid shirts and bandanas, their arms tattooed with the Maschorian scorpion. They guarded the entrance to an unknown maze constructed out of sharp, barbed wire. The room became illuminated by blinking strobe lights of red, blue, and green, blinding Nina from the darkness she’d gotten so accustomed to.

"What is this place?" Nina’s voice became small and frantic as she tried to figure out what the purpose behind the room. When the lights turned on again and she was able to make out the details of the room, she received her gruesome answer.

Dead corpses hung from shackles on the walls like the murdered wives of Bluebeard, blood and gore seeping from open wounds in various places. A few had merely slit throats, but other corpses suffered worse fates. Intestines dangled out of a man’s open stomach carving, and amputated arms and legs hung from the ceiling, all chained up. And strangely enough, a crackly recording of Europe’s ‘The Final Countdown’ started to play from a radio in the crook of the ceiling.

“Welcome… to RUN!” a menacing voice boomed from above Nina.

Nina glanced upward and saw Eddie standing on a platform ten feet above the maze. His decapitated head was sewn back on carelessly, dangling from the threads connecting his head to his neck. Despite this, he was already the most active she'd ever seen him through body language as he prowled along the platform, eyeing every inch of the maze. Eddie used to be laid-back and collected, not saying or doing much. But overnight, he had been reanimated into someone sinister, someone that was rumored to be him in the past.

“Eddie?” Nina cried in horror.

"That’s right!" Eddie jumped down from the platform and confronted Nina. "The Maschorians happened to call my name last night. There's no use being a rebel anymore if there isn't anything to fight for. Everyone just keeps on suffering, you know?"

"Lady Luck did this to you, didn't she?" Nina asked suspiciously. It all made sense. While the three were distracted by their sorrows, Monica - or Lady Luck - took Eddie's head and revived him for her own sick purposes. "Answer me, Eddie!”

Eddie ignored her. "We’re going to play a little game, Nina. The rules to the maze are simple. You need to get out as quickly as you can. You've got to make choices to survive! But judging how afraid you look right now, Luck's not on your side. I had a good, long talk with her."

“She’s lying to you! She fucked you over and you know it!”

“I know the goddamn truth now. Luck showed me the way back to what I was best known for. Torturing the fuck out of everyone I see!” Eddie laughed maniacally. “I’m the herald of insanity now, baby!”

“She’s trying to manipulate you with her lies!” Nina tried to reason with the newly undead spirit. “Don’t believe anything she says!”

“I’m starting the countdown,” Eddie said as a fellow Maschorian handed him an air horn. “If you survive, we can talk about this later.”

Nina’s thick brows furrowed. “Fine, I’ll play your game. If I survive, I want you to become our ally again. Please, Eddie! You’ve helped us, and especially Tom and George.”

Eddie showed no remorse or even remembrance of Tom and George as he led Nina to the maze's entrance, a huge, ripped-up opening in the gauges of wire. Nina didn't know what this maze contained, yet she also knew that she was ready to fight off whatever evil she came across. Although she had no weapons, she'd be able to fend for herself.

Eddie and his men began chanting down from five. As each second that Nina could’ve been saving for living ticked away, she thought of what she was about to confront. Judging by the hanging corpses and Eddie’s new rowdy nature, she realized that she was in for a rough time. What had she gotten herself into? She always considered herself to be a good judge of character. Now, who was there to trust?

The last second disappeared, and the air horn blasted.

“RUN!” Eddie and his men roared.

Two of the men pushed Nina into the maze and revved up their chainsaws behind her, making her literally run for her life. She stumbled into a claustrophobic setting, being stuck in between mattresses on the walls. With the strobe lights flickering, Nina had almost completely lost her sight and ability to move. She grunted as she tried wriggling out of the tightly packed mattresses, shuffling her feet along the floor. The chainsaw buzzed in her ears as the blade cut through the foam behind her. Finally, after about another ten seconds of pushing through, she managed to squeeze herself out.

Nina descended into more chaos, this time seeing slabs of rotten wood and a black dog that didn't look very friendly. The dog had almost a whole human leg in its mouth, the skin festering with maggots. The leg fell from the dog's mouth as he began to bark thunderously and charge toward Nina, startling Nina with each noise he made. It was nearly impossible to maneuver past the mutt, especially when body bags hung in her path.

With a grunt, Nina pushed back the heavy body bags and rushed into the next area of the maze stood feet away. A menacing gatekeeper wearing a black gimp suit and mask stood in her way, blocking access to a chain link door behind him.

"How far am I?" Nina asked him, panting for breath.

“Not even halfway!” Gimp exclaimed as he opened the door.

Nina ran into the next room to see three hanging corpses hanging upside down and covered head to toe in bloodied gauze. The smell of human decomposition filled her nostrils, increasing her urge to vomit.

“This is where the maze gets tricky.” Gimp joined Nina and snarled in her ear. “The key to the exit of the maze is wrapped deep within the gauze of one of these bodies. If you find it, congratulations! You’ve won yourself a fifty-fifty chance of your survival. If you don’t, you’re good as dead! Ninety seconds, go!”

Gimp slammed the door shut, trapping Nina in the room with the bodies. At once, she began to work as the time ticked away, unwrapping the first body she saw. The stench of decay reeked even more, but Nina charged on, holding her breath as her spindly fingers unwrapped each tableaux of blood-stained gauze. Eddie and his men laughed at her from behind the walls. Her chances of surviving this trap were becoming slimmer and slimmer, yet she couldn’t give up now. Even if she had no weapons to tear apart the gauze, she had to go on. She knew she could get herself out of this mess.

With a whole minute remaining on the timer next to her, Nina quickened her pace and spent about ten seconds with each body. With the first two bodies, there was no key to be found, even if she shook the bodies out. But thankfully, finally, with the last body, the key was found in between two bandages, and stuck off almost instantly.

“Thank sweet baby Jesus,” Nina muttered to herself in victory as she ran to the door and unlocked it. She had made it just in time, for when she passed through the threshold, the timer stopped, and all the doors shut.

The next room had walls constructed of wooden planks, creating odd structures and false pathways. Nina stayed on the path ahead of her, but out of seemingly nowhere, another one of Eddie's fellow Maschorians jumped in front of her, brandishing an operating nail gun. He looked as if he was ready to strike, piercing his nails throwing Nina's tawny skin.

“Keep moving or else I’ll fire!” Nails barked, lowering his gun.

Nina raced into the next room. She looked around to see if any of the Maschorians followed her into the room, and thankfully, the room was empty. She took a brief moment to stop for a breath. As she rested her hand against the chain link, she could hear a man sneak up behind her and slam a metal baseball bat on the chain link, startling her.

“Who told you to stop? This maze ain’t over ‘til Eddie says so!”

“You mean there’s more?” Nina asked, her voice wobbly from incoming tears.

“Of course there’s damn more! You’re near the final room though, so I suggest running if I were you!”

Nina ran under a torn-open awning in the chain link. All the Maschorian men from earlier, including Gimp and Nails, hovered over her, brandishing knives and baseball bats. Nina had no choice but to duck and crawl, knowing if she raised her head up just once, she'd be decapitated, just like Eddie was. The men spat out curses and death threats above her, painful truths if she didn't move quickly enough. The vibrations the bats made against the chain link startled Nina and coursed through her body, but as she quickened her pace and kept crawling, a bright beam of light shone in her direction.

The exit. She was almost there!

Nina rose from the floor and ran toward the light of freedom. She may have even heard Ethan and Hayley's distant cries of praise in her hallucinogenic splendor, but right when she was about to step into the light and win the game, the door to the exit slammed shut right in front of her, sealing her in the tomb.

"You forgot about the bonus round, Nina."

Nina whipped around to see Eddie handling two large chainsaws, their blades stained with blood. The rest of the Maschorian men disappeared, leaving the two of them in the room, the thicket of fog the only thing separating them.

“Eddie, you need to stop this!” Nina cried. “What made you think that the Order is siding with you now?” He didn’t answer. “Come on, Eddie! We can still fight through this together! We aren’t going to let Adaru and the heralds win! Do you know what the most important thing about survival is, Eddie? It’s determination, not giving up. That’s what Tom and George would’ve wanted us to do!”

“Don’t you see that I’m dead now, Nina?” Eddie asked her, gesturing toward the collar of stitches around his neck. “Face it, _all_ of us are dead! The heralds have Kristen and they ain’t going to let her loose. And now, ZAP’s dead and the legions are free! There’s no protection. It’s just better for death to come your way instead of fighting against it. My time is up, Nina. Caine was right all along.”

“You’re lying!” Nina held back tears. “You have potential! Just let this all go and come with us! We forgive you!”

Eddie could feel the puppet master’s strings freeing him. Now that Luck wasn’t meddling with his head again, he could access his own thoughts again. He secretly believed in some of what Nina said, but he knew he had a new goal now. He needed to kill for the Maschorians, to help them win back their power. He couldn’t go and switch sides whenever he pleased. This was only a relapse; this would all go away. But at this moment, he felt like killing again was right. It was finally time for him to serve his duty again and get back Jack’s respect.

But deep down, Eddie knew he couldn't kill Nina. He knew her for a long time, seeing her as an intergenerational friend along with Kristen and the rest of the comrades. He wanted Kristen to be found so Carey could be brought back to justice, and he secretly wanted the rebels to win. Perhaps an old-fashioned, bloodthirsty war was about to begin. Now that was thinking like a Maschorian, but not in the way Adaru would approve of. His own mind was dangerous now, and if he wanted to be properly redeemed, there was one thing he had to do.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Eddie threw the chainsaws down on the floor and placed his broad hands on Nina’s shoulders. “All I want is for you and the others to leave. Find Kristen and end this battle. Don’t tell anyone I did this, okay? I could be in deep shit if the Order finds out, especially Jack.”

“So you’re—“ Nina attempted to ask.

“No,” Eddie replied firmly. “I’m not on anybody’s side anymore. have to serve the legions now, and if I don’t, you guys are going to be the ones to blame.”

“But why—“

“Just go, Nina!” Eddie’s voice got sharper. “If you don’t leave, you’ll end up like me! Undead, Maschorian, allegiant to Adaru! They might force me to kill you!”

“Eddie, please—“

“Just go!”

Nina took one more glance at her fallen friend. Then, with watery eyes, she bolted out of the warehouse and back into the sunlight, slamming the door behind her. Ethan and Hayley waited near the abandoned tire shop across the road. She ran over to them without even giving herself a second to breathe.

“Nina, you made it!” Hayley cried, throwing her arms over Nina’s neck.

“We need to go!” Nina sobbed, shaking. “Something’s happened to Eddie! I think he might be with the Order!”

“How do you know that?” Ethan asked.

“He… he was going all ape-shit in that maze! And then, when I saw him, his sides kept on changing! He was for the heralds, and then he was for us, and then… he let me go! He told me that if I didn’t leave him, then he would go all crazy again and possibly kill me!”

Ethan and Hayley stared behind Nina, their faces trembling in fear.

“Are those Eddie’s friends back there?” Hayley asked shakily.

The five Maschorian men had followed Nina out of the warehouse, brandishing their weapons once again. Only this time, in the rays of dusk, their bodies twitched and shifted around, a response to the fading light. Their eyes turned yellow as their teeth elongated, becoming sharp and long, resting against their bottom lips. Thick, coarse hair sprouted from every inch of their flesh, while their heads became less human and more wolf-like, with pointed ears and a lupine facial structure.

“Cerebins!” Nina screamed, watching in horror as the men’s hands turned into paws topped with long claws.

“Werewolves!” Ethan added in an oddly cheerful way. “I’ve never seen them out in the field before! This is so cool!”

“That’s great, Ethan, but how the hell are we going to defend ourselves from them?”

“I snuggled some of those knives out!” Hayley whipped out three of the dull knives from her jeans pocket. “They’re still dull, but they might help!”

“We need to run!” Nina exclaimed. “Where’s the nearest place we could go to from here?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan replied, quivering at the howls of the Maschorians turned Cerebins, “but we better start running!”


End file.
